


Up To Something

by She5los



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Everyone was too sensible to let it happen, Gen, I like how I tied it up but it sure as hell isn't sterek, I tried really hard to make Sterek work, Laura is the alpha they deserve, The adults actually act like adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5270336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She5los/pseuds/She5los
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale is up to something.  Stiles is sure.  Something more than inviting Stiles to the weekly pack dinners.  Something more than keeping an eye on him after his fight with Jackson.  Or maybe it's just Stiles' huge crush on Derek that feels like it's tearing open his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up To Something

Stiles can tell that Derek Hale is up to something.

Derek had moved back to Beacon Hills after a few years’ absence with his older sister, and as much as the guy was a creep to literally everyone, it was kind of like that melted away around Laura. He clearly adored her, and felt much more comfortable in her presence than anywhere else. It was weird, honestly; didn’t seem like a very normal sibling relationship. But it was the kind of thing you noticed when your best friend was a werewolf, and therefore a beta just like Derek.

Well. Not “just like.” Not a born werewolf. But Stiles knew Scott had been really reassured by the way Derek, upon finding out that some random high schooler had been turned by an alpha encroaching on his sister’s territory, had immediately said “We’re brothers” and clapped him on the back and treated him as an equal.

…Not quite like an equal, actually. Not entirely. But like a sibling. A blind, deaf sibling with no sense of smell, but still a sibling.

What Stiles is trying to say, and not saying at all, is that Derek Hale thrives on hierarchy. Hierarchy and routine, those are his twin passions. He goes for a run at the same time every morning, wears the same style of shirt every day in a narrow set of muted colors, and is simultaneously 100% fearsome to outsiders and 100% deferential to Laura’s authority.

Which is where Stiles’ problem comes in.

Stiles exists in a strange place where he isn’t a werewolf, but he can’t for-certain say he’s “not pack.” He’s Scott’s best friend, after all, and Scott’s definitely pack. Scott had asked, before, if Stiles ever wanted to come to pack dinner, which was held once a week, but Stiles always declined. He only sort of knows Laura, and isn’t entirely sure he’s in her good graces. She’s so calculating, and likes to know what’s happening with her betas, and dependability isn’t exactly Stiles’ middle name.

It’s no secret that Scott always hangs out at Stiles’ house Friday afternoons, before pack dinner (really, the invitation is open every night, but the pack is just Laura, Derek, and teenagers and no one takes advantage of their offer unless something bad’s happening at home), but now Derek Hale is in the habit of coming outside to meet them when the Jeep pulls up instead of just leaving the door open for Scott and all the other betas. He doesn’t say anything, just nods to Stiles like there’s some kind of agreement or understanding between them, which there clearly isn’t because Stiles has no idea what’s going on.

And this week is worse.

Derek meets them outside, picking up the casserole dish full of potatoes that Scott’s mom had sent over, and looks at Stiles expectantly as they approach the door. When his eyes linger on Stiles before he shuts the door, Stiles finally works up the nerve to ask, “Why are you doing this all of a sudden? Why are you staring at me?”

There’s a pause where Derek just looks confused. Then he asks, “Why do you never come in?”

_What?_ It’s not like Stiles wouldn’t love to, but it isn’t exactly his call. “Well, there isn’t much I can do, not being pack. I mean, I guess I could go in, take my shoes off, say hi all around, get my shoes back on, and skedaddle.” Terrible word choice there. Fuck. “Couldn’t exactly stay for the *pack* dinner, though.”

“Oh.” Derek nods, brows knit, like something serious is happening. Then, after a pause, he nods again and goes inside.

What the fuck?

.-._.-._.-._

The next weekend, Stiles drives Scott to pack dinner again. There’s no Derek waiting on the porch or coming down the steps to help carry in the two-liter soda bottles, which aren’t heavy, but still aren’t easy to carry since they don’t have bags.

Unfortunately, that puts him in the middle of the kitchen area, even though it’s only for a moment. He smiles and nods to Laura before anyone else, promising he’ll leave soon. She’d extended a permanent welcome to him a while ago, but he got the feeling it was mostly because he was Scott’s friend.

.-._.-._.-._

“I’m not sure you should drive me this week,” Scott tells him during after-school practice on Friday.

“What? Why?”

“Laura was kind of pissy after you left last week.”

“What? Fuck. She said I could come in any time! And I did get out before anything… pack-ish started.”

“Well, she did this thing where she and Derek look at each other and smell kind of mad and everyone else is too embarrassed to ask what werewolf etiquette rules have been broken.”

“Okay… I mean, you can do what you want, of course. Weird that they’d get mad, though.”

.-._.-._.-._

And _Derek Hale is still fucking up to something._

Stiles just. Sees him. Everywhere. Lurking in the woods. Hanging around his street. _Standing in his room by the time he gets there._

“Well, hi, Derek, nice to see you here. Anything in your plans today aside from scaring the shit out of me?”

“Why haven’t you been coming to pack dinners?”

Um. Well. Direct as ever. “I… don’t think I was ever invited to pack dinners. Seeing as I’m pretty sure I’m not completely part of the pack.”

“You’re definitely part of the pack. Congratulations. Come to the dinners.”

“Well, that was an enticing invitation. What if I have plans on Friday?” He crosses his arms, trying to look serious, “trying” being the operative word.

Derek Totally-too-important-to-deal-with-Stiles’-bullshit Hale sighs and tells him that Laura said there would be chocolate if he came.

Stiles smirks at the quid pro quo and says he’ll probably come, which Derek takes as good enough and finally _gets the fuck out of Stiles’ room holy shit why would he break into a teenager’s room???_

.-._.-._.-._

Scott and Stiles pull up to the house a few minutes early. Stiles figures he should talk to Laura and see what’s even going on. When they get inside, Lydia’s already there, trying to succeed in the middle school hand-slapping game against Derek Hale. He puts his plate of kielbasa pyrohi on the counter and quietly asks Laura if he can talk to her.

“Of course.”

“I meant in private.”

“What, are you afraid that Lydia’s going to hear something she didn’t get from last week?”

He blushes kind of way too hard at that. She smirks and puts a hand on his shoulder to guide him into another room, muttering, “Alright, human.”

When they’re a couple rooms away, in the parlor, Laura sits and gestures for him to sit. “Is there a reason you haven’t been coming to dinners?”

“Is there a reason you didn’t tell me I’m pack?”

Fuck. Fuck, wrong thing to say. That was probably super insulting. But Laura starts laughing so hard she snorts. “You’re friends with everyone in the pack and have a standing invitation to _come into our house_ any time you feel like it, and you thought you weren’t in?”

“Well… I’m not a wolf…”

“Neither is Lydia.”

“Well, she’s magic; that’s different.”

“She can’t run with us. Neither can Allison.”

“…Wait, Allison’s pack? Since when?”

“Since always. We have an arrangement: she can say she isn’t pack when it isn’t safe, and I won’t get mad at her for it. You really thought you weren’t pack?”

Her tone has suddenly turned very soft, which is??? Kind of weird, but okay, then. “Yeah. I mean, Scott kept saying how being in a pack makes you stronger, and it’s not like I have anything to offer there. I can’t even make first line in lacrosse.”

“Oh, Stiles.” Suddenly, she’s hugging him, which is really, REALLY strange, because what? When was that a thing that ever happened? She held his shoulders at arm’s length and told him she’d talk about what pack means over dinner.

Then Jackson came in the door and joked that the runt had shown up, and Laura flashed her alpha eyes at him. Bizarre.

.-._.-._.-._

There was almost nothing that could get him in people’s good graces like sausage-filled dumplings. The pyrohi were gone by the time they got around the table the second time, which was a really good feeling. When there was a slight lull in the conversation, Laura tapped on her glass with her knife, getting everyone’s attention.

“I understand that none of you, except Derek, were raised in a pack, so I’d like to be clear on what pack is. Pack is what gives you strength. It is who you turn to first in a crisis and who you trust to help you when you have no one. You are never alone when you have a pack.

“The way pack strengthens you has nothing to do with them and everything to do with you. It isn’t strength in numbers, though of course, the numbers help. It’s having people you love and are responsible to. It’s knowing there are people who have your back in every way, not only in a fight.

“If this were a traditional pack, the house would be larger and there would be children everywhere. Children don’t run with us. Whoever looks after the children doesn’t run with us. But children are still pack, and some of the most treasured members of the pack. Not because they will run with us one day, but because they’re dear to us for who they are. Our human and banshee members cannot run with us, but we treasure them because they strengthen our hearts. That is pack. Now, if anyone has any close friends who haven’t been introduced to me, now is the time to say it.”

Jackson cautiously raises his hand and says, “I have a friend named Danny. Um. Best friend. I didn’t… I mean, if I’d known that was how it works, I’d—”

“Jackson, calm down. It’s fine. Just bring him to dinner next week, okay?” She sighed. “There’s nothing I can do to hold a human here. Or a banshee. But I do hope you feel as strongly about the pack as I do about you. Everyone in this room is here for a reason, and we feel the absence of Allison and Danny. That is pack.”

“May I?” Derek asks quietly. Laura nods, going back to her food.

“Pack is all about responsibility and respect. You follow the alpha, you stand on equal ground with the betas, and you watch over the pups. There is no one in your pack who you are not responsible for. In this room, we are all equals. Except for Laura, of course. On the Preserve, we are divided only by our abilities, not by our importance.”

Stiles isn’t sure he’s ever heard Derek put so many words together at once, but he nods and takes a sip of water and quiets down again like he didn’t just give his longest speech of the year.

Laura smiles over at Stiles, then frowns. “Stiles, you know it’s all safe to eat, right? Nothing on your plate will hurt you.”

“Oh, yeah, no, I just have trouble eating before it’s late. Six-thirty’s pretty early for me.”

Laura frowns harder than gets up, sniffs him, leans down to sniff his neck. “Stiles, what the fuck? What the _fuck?_ ”

“What? What’d I do?”

“What are you on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The drugs you are on. What did you take?”

Okay, so that pisses him off immensely. “What do you think? My prescription Adderall, so I wouldn’t be completely hopeless in class.”

There’s a pause, then Laura asks, “Wait, so were you able to eat lunch? Do you have enough on your plate? Food does tend to disappear here.”

“What? Laura, you can’t just go from calling me a druggie to pulling some weird motherly act.”

“As someone who lives with only my mom, she absolutely can,” Scott volunteers.

“I wasn’t talking to you. Why is it anyone’s business when I eat or what I take?”

Laura leans forward on his shoulders in something reminiscent of a hug. “Because we’re pack,” Laura tells him. “Because, if you were at risk of an overdose, I would need to know so I could at least try to intervene. As your alpha.”

“Pfft. Most boring overdose ever.”

“You’d be surprised.” She’s already on her way back to her seat. “If it helps, that was less eventful than the time Allison thought cigarettes were a decent idea.”

“Why would you do that in front of everyone?” Do werewolves just have no filters, or…?

Laura looks confused for a moment. He can see realization hitting her. “If this were a normal pack, anyone could hear anything going on in any part of the house whenever they wanted. There are very few truly secret conversations in a werewolf pack. When Derek and I say that a pack is built on trust and responsibility, we mean it. If you were doing recreational drugs, everyone would need to know for your safety. Humans are very fragile, Stiles; I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Allison and I set an alpha on fire! So did human Jackson! We aren’t defenseless.”

“Not at all. But I hope you can understand why I would be particularly cautious about my pack.”

Nobody dares to say anything. Stiles nods soberly. Then Lydia brings up some upcoming school event and everyone talks like they didn’t just have a long conversation about how oblivious Stiles is.

And Derek Hale, he’s sure, is still up to something.

They watch a movie after dinner, some Jane Austen thing, nothing Stiles has the attention for when he’s finally feeling hungry. He sits near Isaac, then _Derek fucking Hale sits between them and puts an arm around both their shoulders._ Isaac leans into the touch, smiling, but Stiles just gets weirded out and keeps paying attention to his food. He’s always ravenous when his meds wear off, like he wasn’t aware of his own hunger all day and now has to make up for it.

“Derek, what are you doing?” he asks when he’s done with his dinner. He knows a whisper on the other side of the house will be as audible as a conversation in the middle of the living room, so he doesn’t bother leaving.

Derek pulls his arm away. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“Um. Yes? Because that was weird?”

“Oh. I’ll… We’ll talk about this later.” Stiles follows Derek’s gaze to where Laura is glaring at both of them. She turns her eyes back to the screen. Derek leans more against Isaac.

Stiles tries to linger after everyone else so he can talk to Derek and Laura about whatever the fuck they didn’t say about pack that night, but clearly, neither Jackson nor Lydia is in any rush to go home and Stiles does want to get to sleep.

.-._.-._.-._

He comes back Saturday afternoon, when he knows it’ll be just the alpha and her brother. Derek meets him outside. “Laura says we have to sort this out between the two of us. She suggested we go on a walk.”

“Is my Jeep really that noisy?”

Derek smirks. “Absolutely.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, locks up, and starts walking. He doesn’t know how far away they have to be for Laura to not hear, or at least to tune it out, so he waits for Derek to start.

“What made you so uncomfortable last night?”

“What, do you mean when Laura called me a druggie in front of all my friends? Or maybe when Derek Hale, glare machine, put an arm around me like I was his boyfriend or something.”

“Boyfriend?”

“It was pretty creepy, dude.”

“I was—Stiles, we’re pack.”

“Yeah…?”

“We’re brothers.”

“We’re not brothers, okay? We didn’t grow up together. We’re different species. You’ve only ever talked to me when we had saving-the-city business.”

“…Oh. I… If you really feel that way, I can talk to Laura to give her some warning, but if you’re leaving, you will eventually have to tell her yourself.”

“What? _Leaving?_ Derek, where are you getting this shit from?”

“Stiles,” he says like there could never be anything more obvious, “You’re either in the pack or you’re out. We’re brothers or we aren’t. Pack is family. If you’re uncomfortable with touching, that’s alright, but you don’t get to only be pack when it’s convenient to you.”

“Okay, let’s try putting this in words that humans use because I feel like this is getting more confusing the more we talk. What is pack?”

“Pack is family.”

“Derek, I’m going to fucking punch you. Who is included in the pack?”

“It really is like a human family. A mother and a father and pups, and aunts and uncles and cousins. Grandparents. Distant relatives. Family friends.”

“Okay, family friends. Let’s start from there because I’m definitely a friend and not a member of your werewolf family.”

“But they become family by being pack.”

“Alright, alright, friends who might as well be family. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. That part’s making sense now. Just wanted to be clear. And then, when you say we’re brothers, you mean…?”

“You’re my brother. As pack, we are as close as blood. I don’t know how to say it in a way that isn’t ‘brothers’ or ‘pack.’ Pack means we’re family. Laura’s the alpha, so we are brothers. You’re more my brother than she is my sister, considering our rank.”

“Dude, what the hell? That was cold.”

He shrugs. “There’s a hierarchy. I follow it. Laura’s a good alpha.”

“She’s still your sister, though!”

“By human definitions, yes.”

“Then what is she by werewolf definitions? Put it into human words for me.”

“There aren’t human words. She’s the alpha. When we were young, my mother was alpha and we knew that Laura would be, one day. Now she is, and she does it well. It doesn’t erase the years we spent together as pups and betas, but it isn’t the same as human siblings.”

“Okay, but like, so when you put your arm around my shoulders, that was just, like, pure wolf-brotherly affection?”

“Yes.”

“Why have I never seen you do that anywhere else?”

“You’ve never seen me relax anywhere else.”

“Oh. I… guess that makes sense?”

“I hope it does. Are we going to go in another circle of rephrasing perfectly straightforward things?”

“I didn’t know I was your brother, man. Nobody told me these things.”

“That’s why Laura had us do this.”

“Wait, does that mean Lydia’s my sister? Does that mean Scott and Allison are siblings???”

“Yes and no? I feel like we’re talking about different ways of being siblings. You know, in the military, men who work together call each other brothers? That’s what I mean. Scott and Allison are equals and companions, but they’ll probably also mate at some point.”

“So—Wait. Wait. So, if they have kids, those kids will be…?”

“Pups.”

“And, when those pups grow up, they’ll be…?”

“Betas.”

“So, Scott, Allison, and their children would all be betas.”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck, dude?”

“It isn’t some kind of exacting rank. It’s just a shorthand. An alpha leads a pack, as well as having some specific abilities. Betas follow an alpha. An omega is a lone wolf who lacks an alpha. We turn to the alpha for big decisions, but of course all betas have different strengths and abilities.”

“What’s my best ability, _bro?”_

Derek considers for a moment, then tells him, “You keep morale up and you strategize well.”

“Oh, wow, I keep morale up? Me? You’re sure?”

“You wouldn’t believe how jealous I am that you took that over from me.”

“…Wait, did you just tell a joke?”

“You and I both know I’m incapable of doing anything remotely related to fun.”

“Except snuggling with Isaac.”

“Naturally.”

Stiles punches him in the arm.

“Now who’s sour?”

“Shut _up,_ dude!”

“Me? Be quiet? I’m not sure I could handle it.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and starts to head back.

Derek puts a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. So we’re good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“You think, or you know?”

“I guess we’ll find out the next time you try to bro it up with me.”

Suddenly, Derek is right next to him, arm across his shoulders again in a brotastic side-hug.

“And when better to test it than the present?” Stiles guesses.

“Exactly.”

“I’m not going to get all cuddly like Isaac.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Holy shit, dude, how are your muscles even real?”

Derek laughs and moves away from Stiles. “Jealous?”

“I mean, let me put it this way: if I’d been the one putting on a strip show for Danny, nothing would ever have gotten hacked.”

“I would say you need to eat to get this big, but now I’ve seen you eat.”

“What can I say? It’s a curse.”

“Oh, and Laura asks if you eat enough on weekends.”

“What kind of—Yes, I eat enough. I eat enough on weekdays, too, if she hadn’t noticed.”

“She said you shouldn’t make her worry so much.”

“About what?”

“About you, Stilinski. What else? It makes more sense when she says it in that I’m-a-mom-even-though-I’ve-never-mated voice.”

“Stop with the graphics, Derek; holy shit. It’s called a mom-friend.”

Derek rolls his eyes, sighing. “Humans.”

“I am one, in fact. Got a problem with that?”

“I literally just outlined all the ways I don’t care.”

“Well, y’know, I’m really bad at paying attention; maybe we should do it again.”

“Stiles, you’re on your medication right now. You’re fine.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because last night, I saw you tie people’s shoelaces together for about five minutes and crab-walk into as many objects as possible.”

“…Okay, yeah, fine, I have a shit-ton of math and chem homework after this.”

“Go do that. We’ll get this sorted out in time. And maybe don’t talk to Laura about how much food you are or aren’t eating on any given day.”

“Can do. Race you back to the house?”

“That would—Stiles, that would be pointless.”

Stiles starts running.

.-._.-._.-._

Stiles starts attending pack dinners. It’s a little weird for him, because only Scott’s ever been around him after his meds wear off, but nobody really seems to mind. They just get used to him talking during movies, playing with fidgets, not-quite-invading their personal space. Laura makes sure Stiles gets first crack at filling a plate, which is kind of weird since there’s always enough regardless, but she gets protective in weird ways and it’s not like he’s about to complain. The dinners are something between social potlucks and official meetings, with plenty of time for Official Pack Business as well as bonding time. Laura and Derek have a Netflix queue full of weirdly good movies that Stiles cannot, for the life of him, focus on. But he can still see how captivated everyone else is.

Predictably, Jackson approaches him before lacrosse practice one day.

“Hey. So, if you’re on Adderall, does that mean you can hook me up?”

Stiles has heard this before from people who were smart enough to put the pieces together themselves. He rolls his eyes so hard, his head follows them. “No, Jackson, I’m not going to be your hookup for illegal drugs.”

“It’s not illegal if you’ve got a prescription.”

“The key word there being me. My prescription. The prescription for Stiles Stilinski and not Jackson Whittemore.”

“No one’s gonna notice one or two, though, right? C’mon, dude, I heard the high’s really fun. You know I can pay you for it.”

“Jackson. Shut the fuck up or I’m talking to Laura.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe I’ll act all distraught. ‘Laura, I’m sooo worried about Jackson; I think he’s trying recreational drugs. Oh, Laura, I just don’t know how to talk to him. I feel like he could use some guidance from a natural leader.”

“You’re a bitch, Stilinski.”

“Look. If you want to talk about how much long-term stimulant use completely fucking sucks, talk to me. If you don’t, swallow a box of caffeine pills and enjoy the ride. Either way, I’m not giving you my meds.”

“I’m just thinking, if you’re that crazy off Adderall, I’ll probably be that crazy _on_ it.”

“Did you just call me crazy while asking me to do you a huge fucking favor? Did you really just call me crazy?”

“What’re you gonna do about it, Stilinski? Gonna snitch to Laura?”

Stiles is struck by the most amazing idea he’s ever had. He can practically feel himself Grinch-smiling. “Nah. Not worth it. She’d just go all alpha and command you to stop. I’m gonna snitch to Derek so he can lecture you about brotherhood.”

.-._.-._.-._

He’s back at the Hale house that evening after practice. As he gets out of his car, he says, “Hey, Derek, I have something to tell you that’s for your ears and not Laura’s. You up for another walk in the woods?”

“Sure,” the deep voice says from behind him.

He jumps. “Jesus freaking Christ, I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to the speed thing.”

They walk for a while, chatting about school and the finishing touches of the house restoration, then Derek asks, “Laura, can you hear me?” and tells Stiles it’s safe to talk.

“So, Jackson was asking me for Adderall. But that’s, like, the background. The setting. It’s not actually what’s bothering me. The actual problem is, he called me crazy and I don’t know what to do about that. But, like, I figured, when you talked to me about being pack-brothers, that made me feel really uncomfortable about every time I’d said something kinda shitty to anyone in the pack. So I was wondering if you could give him the brotherhood talk, too, and make him feel like a shitty person.”

“That was… actually never what I meant,” Derek tells him. “So, wait, trying to use you to get high isn’t what bothers you?”

Stiles shrugs. “He’s an obnoxious rich kid. Of course he wants to buy a couple pills off me. Never mind that they’re slow-release.”

“If you want me to chew him out for you, I have some very strong words for someone who’s bad to their pack. But I really think you should talk to Laura if you need an authority figure.”

“I don’t want it to be anything formal. I just… I guess I want him to feel bad for making me feel bad, which I know sounds kind of shitty, but he kind of touched a nerve.”

Derek puts an arm around his shoulders. “Of course. I won’t deny how rude that was. I just think, if there’s in-fighting in the pack, the way to stop it is to go to the alpha. You know she’s a good alpha. Getting everyone to work together is literally her job.”

Stiles huddles against Derek a lot more readily than he’d like to admit.

“Do you want to talk about why it’s that part that bothers you? I have to say, if I had a packmate who was seeking illegal drugs, which I do now, I don’t think there’s much he could say to me that would be worse than that.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t forget not to talk during movies. Or lie under the screen and make shadow puppets. Or take drugs to pretend to be a regular person and still get detention once a week at best.”

Derek sighs heavily. “I’ll talk to Jackson.”

“Thanks.”

Stiles leans against Derek for the next quarter-mile or so back toward the house. “Can I also talk to Laura, though?” he asks when they’re in range of her hearing, though Stiles is pretty sure he just hadn’t thought to ask earlier.

“If you feel like it’s something that needs addressing on a pack level, go for it, I guess. But I’d really like it to be handled by betas to start with.”

“I think, if she knew what was happening, she’d want to be the one to handle it.”

“Can you just try first?”

Derek nods and keeps leading him back. Sends him off with instructions to take it easy and focus on school.

.-._.-._.-._

Stiles sees Derek approach Jackson after lacrosse practice. Sees the burning glare Jackson sends his way. Fights the urge to stick out his tongue or otherwise mock the guy who’s supposed to be his packmate. Comes home to not one, but two werewolves in his bedroom.

“You know it’s really creepy when you do your whole window-thing, right?”

“You leave it cracked even when it’s freezing out,” Derek points out.

“Yes, for Scott. Oh my God.”

Jackson couldn’t look more uncomfortable if he tried. His eyes go everywhere except to Stiles. “Um. I. Owe you an apology. I guess.”

Stiles sits on his bed. “Oh, really? Whatever for? Enlighten me.”

“You know what for,” he says from between gritted teeth, only to be growled at just loudly enough that Stiles can hear it. He rolls his eyes. “Because we’re brothers or whatever and I called you crazy and you didn’t like it.”

“Okay.”

There’s a bit of a pause before Stiles asks, “So, am I going to get the apology later this week, or…?”

“I just apologized.”

“No, you said you owed me. And I agreed because, dude, you were being such an asshole.”

“Why is it even such a big deal to you? It’s one word!”

“Because of dumbasses like you; why do you think?”

“It’s just a word!”

“One you haven’t taken back yet!”

“Maybe I don’t feel like I should have to.”

Stiles took a deep breath. Exhaled. Getting riled up with Derek in the room was never a good idea. “Alright. Go. Have fun being a jerk to everyone.” He didn’t see Jackson roll his eyes before leaving.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, sounding kind of surprised. “Should I have kept him here?”

“Go home, Derek. I need to do my homework.”

.-._.-._.-._

Stiles drives himself and Scott to pack dinner, as usual, but wimps out without going inside. He just doesn’t want to deal with either (a) Jackson or (b) Laura yelling at Jackson. He’s sick of needing someone to stand up for him and sick of being made fun of for existing. The whole situation just makes him want to go home and lie down.

He almost runs over Derek just as he’s starting to leave. Hits the brakes hard and rolls down his window.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going home, Derek.”

“Is this about the. Thing?”

“Yes, Derek, it’s about the thing. And I’m tired of dealing with it, so I’m going home.”

“If you come inside, it can be over in minutes.”

“If I go home, I can put it out of my mind and I’ll be fine.”

“Laura would advocate for you.”

“Laura’s smarter than that, okay? I know you have all your idealism about pack and found family and stuff, but I’m just a human. I’m not winning this. It was an offhand remark; he didn’t mean it. Let it go.”

Laura appears on the porch. “Heard you were talking shit,” she calls.

Stiles just facepalms. “Look, I just want to go home. Get out of my way, alright?”

“Stay in front of him, Derek. Stiles, get the fuck in here. I’m saying that as your alpha.”

Stiles sighs and unbuckles his seatbelt. Turns the car off. He knows he isn’t coming out of tonight still a member of the pack if Jackson doesn’t get over himself, but he definitely doesn’t want Laura mad at him.

“Treat yourself better than that,” she mutters as she practically pushes him into the house.

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me. I’m completely aware that you’re human, but you’re also pack and I don’t know what you and Derek were talking about, but I won’t stand for you treating yourself like shit.”

“That… really is the last part of this thing that’s your business.”

“Stiles, you are a member of my pack. I don’t give a shit that whatever is happening went down between you and a werewolf. You are just as important. It’s my job to keep my pack safe, so let me do that, okay?”

Stiles nods cautiously.

“Alright. So, what’s happening?”

“It was just an offhand comment. Nothing that big.”

“So it shouldn’t be that big to tell me about it. Spit it out.”

“I just don’t want to get him in trouble.”

“That’s great for you. Really noble. I want my pack members to treat each other fairly and know that there are consequences for being a shitty person.”

He sighs. There’s less than a 0% chance he’s getting out of this without snitching. “Jackson said I was crazy off my meds and I overreacted and that’s the end of the story.”

“That fucker. Jackson, get in this room by the end of this sentence or, so help me, I will drag—hello, Jackson.”

He gives her a tight-lipped smile to mimic her own. “Hi.”

“I heard you were insulting my pack members behind my back.”

“Look, I didn’t mean anything by it, okay?”

“So, I’m noticing this thing where you both say it wasn’t a big deal, but Stiles would rather stay home than see you and you refuse to take it back. Which makes me think that it _is_ kind of a big deal.”

She’s just going to make Jackson hate him. That’s what’s going to happen. “It really isn’t, Alpha Hale; I’m fine. I’ve lived through being called crazy plenty of times before.” Fuck damn it.

She’s still talking to Jackson. “The thing is, I’m his alpha. And I cannot ever, for any reason, tolerate an attack on one of my pack, verbal or physical. When you insult my pack, you insult me. When you insult your own pack, you insult yourself. You owe both of us an apology.”

Stiles closes his eyes and sighs; this got so out-of-proportion, he can’t even put it into words.

“Sorry,” Jackson mumbles.

“Louder, for the human. And maybe with a few more words.”

“I’m sorry I called you crazy.” He turns to Laura, his voice lower again. “And I’m sorry I insulted the pack.”

She smiles for real and pats him on the back. “We’ll make an upstanding citizen of you yet. Don’t fucking do it again.”

“I won’t.” He stands there awkwardly for a moment, then nods to Stiles and leaves.

“Can I go home now?” Stiles asks quietly.

“What? Stiles, you just got here. You’re always welcome—”

“Look, everyone else heard that. And now the word is out there, and they’re all going to be thinking it, and I just don’t want to be in the middle of that. I’m going home.” When he looks up so he can get off the couch, though, Isaac is there, offering him a fist bump. They tap knuckles and Isaac sits down next to him. His eyes immediately go to Laura, moving around from her feet up to the top of her hair like he’s trying to figure her out.

“So, in gym, before but also now, I do this thing where I flinch a lot. Especially when the ball’s headed toward me. You’d think lacrosse would help, but it doesn’t. And it’s like Coach can’t stop calling me a pansy or a sissy or whatever insult he’s feeling like that day. And I want to say, dude, I have fucking PTSD from the freaking torture dungeon in the basement where I grew up, but of course I can’t. So then, all the guys on the team are listening to Coach say all that stuff, so they start saying it. It’s like, if it was between the two of us, fuck him. But he had to put it out between me and everyone else, too. Which doesn’t make me want to do better in gym so much as it makes me want to sit under the bleachers all period.” He looks Laura straight in the eye. “If he was able to talk to Derek without you hearing, you were able to talk to him and Jackson without us hearing. And maybe it felt like you were asserting your dominance as the alpha, but it was honestly kind of painful to listen to as someone who’s had my own fuck-ups made into a public issue. And I’m not saying that to challenge you as the alpha. I’m just saying it as someone who gets why Stiles wouldn’t want an authority figure dealing with his personal shit.” He stands, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder for a moment before he leaves.

“…I think I owe you an apology, as well,” Laura tells him quietly. “I wanted the problem handled on my terms. I should have done better by you. I’ll keep it in mind the next time an intra-group problem comes up.”

Stiles nods. “Can we just stop being super serious and get to the part where everyone has dinner?”

Laura grins. “Absolutely. Stiles has first dibs, Jackson goes last. And, Jackson, if I ever hear exactly why you were discussing Stiles’ medication in the first place, I get the feeling it’s not going to be a pretty picture. Just don’t.”

.-._.-._.-._

He’s not sure he’s okay with Derek just being his brother.

He gets the usage of that now – they’re brothers the way he’s best friends with Scott – but the more he gets to know Derek, the more he seems less grumpy and growly and the more he seems like a lost puppy, even _with_ Laura around. He could kind of use a tummy rub, and it’s not lost on Stiles that the tummy in question has chiseled six-pack abs.

Well. Kind of a grumpy, growly lost puppy, maybe. But only because he’s so insecure all the damn time. He relaxes around pack because he understands pack. Everything else in Derek’s life is uncomfortable.

Maybe Stiles could provide a little comfort.

…Okay, wow, that was cheesy and horrible and he can never use that as a pickup line ever. Would pickup lines even work on Derek? The guy is so honest, _too_ honest, probably from growing up around werewolves who could hear his heartbeat and know he was lying. It would probably be as effective as anything to just phrase it as a yes or no question: do you want to sneak into my room and make out with me? Check the box that applies.

What Stiles gets about Derek, what connects his own nonchalance to Derek’s grouchiness, is that they’re both trying to cover up their insecurities about something they can’t control. Stiles has picked up bits and pieces, different tellings of the story about the fire that tell him Derek blames himself for it. Stiles sure as hell doesn’t feel like he has any blood on his hands, but he does get to be constantly judged for his ADHD. So, even if it’s just a little bit, he does understand the weight of it. The feeling of slogging through reality and being too defensive and never knowing which days are going to overwhelm you.

Regardless, most of the time Derek sees him, he’s at pack meetings, indulging himself after twelve hours of keeping himself together. The living room of the Hale household is plenty safe for whatever shenanigans he decides to get up to, but he gets the feeling that isn’t leaving the best impression on Derek. He just wishes he could be normal-ish for one movie night. Just one. Sit with Derek like Isaac does. Make it clear that he cares. Whenever that’s an option, though, he forgets _._ The closest he comes is finger-combing Derek’s hair into different styles, which he’s pretty sure Derek doesn’t mind.

Not flirting with Derek feels a lot like not flirting with Lydia. He can handle it; it’s just excruciatingly painful. As it turns out, though, _flirting_ with Derek is a whole lot _more_ painful than flirting with Lydia, as he discovers right around the time he’s convinced himself he’s never going to remember to flirt with Derek.

He starts talking during the movie. Par for the course; no one cares anymore, everyone just accepting that his brain is moving too fast and it’s good for him to be able to have a few hours to do everything the Adderall keeps him from doing. (It isn’t like that in the summer, when he takes breaks; he’s just scattered and only a little unusually chatty. He figures it has something to do with the social atmosphere and having to exhibit so much restraint during the day.) But then he wanders onto the subject of Derek.

“But, like, _why_ is your hair so cool?” he asks as he leans over the back of the couch and breathes in the scent of Derek’s hair gel. Derek is leaning against Laura, her arm around him like he isn’t twice her size, but Stiles could swear he tilted his head up so Stiles could play with it easier. “Just smells _good,_ man. Like werewolves. Werewolves, also, are… incredibly hot. When they’re Derek. With the abs and all. Like Hollywood. Like fuckin’… Like Audrey Hepburn, and Fred Astaire, all that swank, and the—what?”

Because everyone was looking at him, and he could sense Derek’s discomfort at having Stiles’ hands in his hair. “Wait, did I fuck up? Did I say the wrong thing?”

Laura gives him a tight smile and says, “Maybe a little personal, Stiles.”

He tries to think back, really does, and gets about as far as the part where he _smelled Derek’s hair, fuck,_ and then he’s thinking about werewolves and “Werewolves are so cool, though. Even though they’re snakes sometimes. But, you know, snakes make really good pets, so it’s not all bad. Hey, is there more chocolate?” Laura stands to walk with him into the kitchen, where she looks like she’s going to say something, then doesn’t and pours a bag of M &Ms into a bowl to pass around.

The next morning, he has a text from her that just says, “Call me.” That sounds fucking horrible, so he puts it off until after breakfast. He gets a call around one in the afternoon.

“Hey, Laura, I was going to call, but then I was eating, and then I had homework, and I. Kind of forgot…”

“It’s fine, Stiles. I want to talk about last night.”

He suddenly feels a little sick. “Yeah, I fucked up and flirted with Derek like a dumbass. I’m sorry.”

“Stiles, it’s alright. I know you don’t have much of a filter.”

“Did you get that from the Wikipedia article on ADHD?”

“WebMD. Not relevant at the moment. I’m trying to gossip with you here.”

“Ooh, what?”

“Yeah. Derek’s in town at the moment, so he can’t hear us. And I just wanted to say: if you do want to make a move, it might not end in disaster. Maybe during the day, though. And you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Of course not. Um…?”

“Seriously, though. I prefer if you don’t flirt with anyone at pack dinners, but as long as you keep it PG, we’re fine.”

“Thank you.”

“I would like to ask you, though, if you possibly can, not to try to joke about kanimas.”

“Wait, what? When did I say anything about kanimas?”

“You said something about, werewolves are snakes sometimes, but at least snakes make good pets. And I’m pretty sure you were just going from thought to thought, and by the time you said it, you were talking about actual snakes and not kanimas, but I also think Jackson was pretty hurt by it.”

“Frick. Um. Yeah, that was me fucking up. Thanks for telling me.”

“Honest mistake. It’s fine.”

“I guess Jackson and I are the trouble children now, huh?”

“I know, right? Are you going to need a getting-along t-shirt?”

Stiles starts giggling at the idea of that ever working, and after a moment, Laura’s laughing with him. “Hey,” she says. “Isaac’s here today. Nothing we’ve talked about is anything he hasn’t heard, so no worries. But do you want to come over for a while?”

“Sure! Wait, what? Did you…? Wait, are you saying Derek talks about how hot I am?” What the fuck? What—? Is this common knowledge or something, and Stiles is the oblivious one?

He hears Isaac cracking up in the background as Laura says, “Well, not verbally. But he does get weird-happy when you touch him or talk to him. Or even talk about him. And he’s usually cuddling with Isaac when that happens. Like I said: very few secrets among werewolves.”

“Thus this thing where you’re setting me up with your brother.”

“Exactly! Now you’ve got it! See you in a few. Bring homework, if you need to.”

Stiles gathers up the notebooks and textbooks he’ll need in his backpack, tossing the textbooks he doesn’t onto his desk, and says a quick goodbye to his dad before heading out.

Laura’s waiting for him outside, predictably. He gets ready for another walk in the woods, wondering if he’s going to get any study time at all today between talking privately with Laura and trying to un-fuck his relationship with Derek.

“Can we just put a marker on the tree where we’re out of hearing range?” he asks when it feels like it’s been a while. “Like those cross-country trail markers that tell you you’re going the right way. We could get that shitty plastic tape-stuff.”

“If you really want. Usually, it’s just Derek and Isaac and me. Or we go for a drive. The weather’s been nice recently, though.”

“Are we out of range yet?”

“Let me check. Isaac? Can you hear me now? …Yes. Yes, we are out of normal hearing range. So: let’s lay out some ground rules for you flirting with my brother.”

“O…kay?”

“You’re both my betas. I want to be really clear about that: you’re both incredibly important to me. There is no possible way you can flirt so badly with Derek that you’re out of the pack. Actually, scratch that: please, for the love of God, flirt badly with him. It’ll do you both some good.”

“…Like, intentionally, or…?”

“No, just… like a teenager, I guess. Like a regular sixteen-year-old boy who’s barely flirted before. Derek’s barely even thought about dating since he was sixteen; it’ll be fine.”

“Laura, I’m insulted. Deeply hurt. I’ll have you know I’ve done plenty of flirting. I’ve been rejected by _Lydia._ ”

“Look, this is… a more sensitive topic for me than I’d like it to be. Derek hasn’t dated since the fire. There’s a lot of history there. So go easy on him, okay?”

“Go easy on—On Derek Hale. Go easy on Derek Hale? Are we talking about the same guy here? The one with the eyebrows?” He knows she’s right, though; he’s figured it out himself. Derek Hale is like one of those fighting dogs that doesn’t know how to be civil anymore, but really just needs someone gentle.

“He has a hard time letting people get close to him. There’s a thinner skin than he’d ever admit between his armor and his heart. So, yeah. Be kind.”

Stiles nods, hoping there won’t be as much gravity to his near-future conversations with Derek as there is in this one with Laura.

“I’m not trying to make you nervous. Don’t feel like you have to be perfect just because he’s my brother. I’m just trying to give you some advance warning that, if shit gets real, you need to back off.”

They walk together for a few paces before she asks, “Do you have any questions? About how to go about this, or tips from someone a little older?”

Stiles shakes his head. “If it’s all the same, we can go back now.”

“Of course.” She leans over to put an arm around him, scent him, kiss his cheek. “Oh, and if you can, try not to do that no-touching thing humans do.”

“…What no-touching thing?”

“ _The_ no-touching thing. The thing where humans don’t touch each other, except on the hands or when they’re sitting next to each other.”

“I don’t—”

“Stiles, I do, in fact, know human social conventions. You can touch on the hands, on the arm or shoulder in athletic situations, hug if you’re women who are already friends. Altogether, though, it’s not nearly enough.”

“So, what’s ‘enough’?”

She thinks for a moment. “You know when it’s movie night, and everyone’s sprawled across each other? Or, after a hunt, when everyone just… assembles into a big puddle on the floor? Wolves just don’t have the same hangups. It just doesn’t feel friendly, after a while, to only touch someone on the hand when you want to smell their neck. You grow up wrestling and playing with your siblings and cousins, and using hearing and scent more than sight, and it just makes sense.”

“Derek did talk about that with me, actually.”

“Oh, good, so you’ve got it?”

“Think so.” Stiles exhales, getting himself pumped up. “Time to go bro it up with my big bro Derek, I guess.”

Laura snorts and kisses him on the cheek again, then tells him she’ll race him back to the house.

.-._.-._.-._

He’s working on chem with Isaac and Laura when both their heads turn and Laura says, “Derek’s home” and then goes back to tutoring. Isaac smiles a little even though he and Stiles are both hideously bad at chemistry. It’s a minute or two before Stiles hears the Camaro drive up. A moment after it parks before Laura smiles like she’s about to start laughing and says, “Of course he did; get in here.”

It’s after Derek’s walked into sight that Laura turns to Isaac and says, “Why don’t we go for a jog? Get our blood flowing?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Isaac responds, smirking at Stiles like the slimy little asshole he is.

Derek sits warily when his sister and packmate have left, not shifting any of the textbooks or papers on the couch. “Is chem at Beacon Hills still the worst?”

“Basically. Pretty sure everything at Beacon Hills is the worst, though.”

“You’d think Mr. Harris would have found a different career by now.”

“You’d think. Maybe he just hates himself too much. Maybe he wants to suffer.”

“Sounds like the only reasonable explanation. I can only imagine how many times a week he blames his students for how much he hates teaching.”

“Any guesses about how many of those times are aimed at me?”

Derek’s eyebrows snap to Angry Mode. “But you’re so calm during the day.”

“Um, I’m not quite sure which Stiles you’ve been talking to, but I’m pretty sure I have no chill, almost ever.”

“I’m talking about the one who has to put his entire personality away five days a week to the extent that he starts flirting with his fellow betas after pack dinner.”

…Oh. “So, I guess Laura and Isaac are already…?”

“It was more of a run than a jog.”

Stiles sighs. “Yeah, so. I’m not exactly tactful when the meds wear off. At all. Or subtle. If you couldn’t tell.”

“I could.”

“Um.”

What can he say? How would he even phrase, ‘Hey, I know I all but said I wanted to bone last night, but do you want to go on a Real Date?’ in a way that has any chance of getting him a yes?

“…You think I’m hot?” Derek looks cautious, even nervous, like he isn’t sure of the answer.

It just kind of. Makes Stiles lose it. All this bullshit and Adderall-free shenanigans and THAT’S what makes Derek confused?

“Um, pretty sure I have eyes, so yes,” he manages through his laughter. Derek blushes like hell and it’s actually kind of completely adorable.

“Just wanted to get the facts straight,” the werewolf mumbles as Stiles tries to stop laughing.

Oh, hell. Fuck it. Laura wants him to flirt badly? He knows someone who he’s sure couldn’t flirt with a damn. He can just be as direct as Derek Hale; that’ll be plenty mediocre.

“Go out with me sometime?” he blurts out. He even smiles in a way he knows can’t possibly be self-assured.

It takes Derek by surprise, but whether that’s good or bad, Stiles has no idea.

Finally, he asks, “Can I think about it?” in this kind of nervous way that Stiles has never seen before, almost like Stiles isn’t the only one in the room taking a risk.

That does probably mean no, though, so he tries to act cool as he says, “Sure.” Then the realization hits him. “Wait, are you just going to ask Laura what to do?”

“I… Well, I was planning to get her help figuring out my own decision, but honestly, probably yes.”

“Since we both do that, how about you just tell me the stuff you were going to tell her and we’ll skip the middle man?”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“Please? Suspense is the worst.”

Derek sighs. “First off, there’s your age. Six years is a long time when you’re a teenager. I know I’ve changed a lot since I was sixteen, and I don’t want to be in any position to hold an unfair kind of power over you.”

“Laura says it’ll be fine because you haven’t dated since then.”

“Laura is already getting some choice words from me when she gets back. I do take it seriously, Stiles. I’m older, and that matters. I don’t want you to feel you were taken advantage of when you’re 22 and you’re more aware of the difference.”

“I’m the one who wants to date you, Derek.”

“Secondly, what if that just impedes your ability to assimilate into the pack? You act so natural with everyone; what if that gets screwed up? I want you to feel like you belong with us, but I also want you to feel like you belong with every individual, and what if paying more attention to me slows that process?”

“That’s ridiculous and makes no sense.”

“Okay. But it still comes back around to: I’m not sure it’s healthy to start out defining packs by romantic relationships. I have years of memories of pack, and it was never about romantic love for me; it was sleeping on the floor with the puppies, huge dinners with two dozen people, someone you know nearby every second of every day. It’s family. I’m not sure half the current pack even gets that, but I really do want it for you.”

“Why is all this about me?”

“What?”

“Why are all your reasons for not dating me about how you don’t want to fuck me up? And do you even have reasons you would want to date me?”

Derek looks confused. “I thought that was a given.”

“Well, apparently, I’m dense here, so what’s a given? What quality makes me datable?”

“All of them.”

“Derek, this isn’t the time to be snarky—”

“All of your qualities make you datable. You’re very attractive, you get along well with the pack and they trust you, you put up with me when I’m being terse, my alpha likes you… Those are clear, though.”

“Not to me!”

Derek blinks a few times. Then he pointedly looks away. “…Anyway, Laura knows a lot of my history, and my fuck-ups, and she’d get why I’m trying to be cautious—”

“She isn’t cautious. She just shoved your jailbait human co-beta at you and said, ‘Go for it!’ Stop putting on the tortured soul act and make a decision! It’s one date!”

“She isn’t ‘shoving you at me;’ she’s making us discuss what happened last night.”

“Dude, pretty sure her words were, ‘please, for the love of God, flirt badly with my brother.’”

“She—what?”

Stiles grins. “Yeah. I’ve got the Laura Hale Seal of Approval.”

Derek sighs. “One date?”

“Yeah. If you don’t like it, we can stop.”

After a moment of consideration, Derek nods. “I do need to check with Laura, though. As alpha.”

“Sure. That part’s fine.”

“Do humans need to check with their parents before they…?”

“Nope! He’ll be cool.”

Derek nods. “I can go find them if you want to keep working in your study group,” he offers.

“Might be nice,” Stiles agrees.

.-._.-._.-._

“I’m, um,” Derek says after he’s brought them popcorn with M&Ms and proofread an essay draft for Isaac.

“Yeah?” Laura asks, not looking up from the stoichiometry sheet she’s double-checking. She grabs a handful of chocolate-laced popcorn.

“Stiles and I were thinking of going on a date.”

“Awesome.”

Laura looks up after a couple moments of no response. “What?”

“So, we have your approval?”

“Derek, you don’t need my approval.”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

She shrugs casually and Stiles can tell there’s something going on beneath the surface. “Date whoever you want.”

“If I… If I did want my alpha’s approval, though…”

“Derek, he’s safe. It’s alright. Work things out with Stiles. Stiles, what are you working on?”

“A… picture of a monkey with machine gun hands?”

“Do you have a second guess?”

“Stoichiometry.”

“What a great answer.”

By the time he goes home, Stiles has a perfect stoichiometry sheet to hand in, his econ reading done, and half a first draft plus quotes for an essay. That’s actually really good, for a Saturday.

And he has plans to go back the next day. That’s the terrifying part. Also the exciting part.

.-._.-._.-._

He shows up in a graphic tee that still has a mostly-discernable graphic on it and his least threadbare flannel. Derek’s sitting on the porch when he pulls up, and he’s relieved to see the guy in his usual Henley-and-leather-jacket combo. “Laura and Isaac will be back at four,” Derek says first thing. Like he wants to get all the logistics sorted out. The logistics of the date they are definitely having.

“That is some marathon making out she’s expecting us to do.”

Derek’s cheeks go weirdly bright pink in what cannot possibly described as a blush, but only because it’s Derek Hale. “I think she just wants us to have plenty of time to watch a movie. And make snacks and everything.”

“Yeah, an extended Lord of the Rings movie. What were you thinking we should watch?” Stiles asks as he takes his shoes off inside the door.

“I don’t know. Laura usually picks. Have you had lunch yet?”

“I don’t really eat lunch on weekends. I’d probably grab some popcorn and chips if you put them in front of me, though.”

Derek nods, tells Stiles to get comfortable and pull something up on Netflix. Stiles gets busy pulling up a completely appropriate movie for the occasion.

“I said Netflix,” Derek tells him when he gets back, looking puzzled as he puts down a bowl of popcorn.

“This isn’t on Netflix. You’ll like it.”

Derek sits and Stiles presses play.

“The unholy masquerade?” Derek asks incredulously as the opening screen comes up. “What the hell are we watching?”

“Shhhhhhhhh.”

“Vampires with alarm clocks? What the fuck?”

“Derek, this is _quiet_ movie time.”

“Why do they have dishes?” Derek asks moments before Deacon asks basically the same question. “What the hell are we watching, Stiles?”

“It’s called What We Do in the Shadows and it’s art; shut up.”

Derek stays mostly quiet, hopefully more distracted by being able to put an arm around Stiles and not only get Stiles to sit still, but actually cuddle against him, until the first encounter with werewolves.

“We’re turning this off,” he says the moment he realizes there are werewolves in the movie.

“What are you talking about? This scene is great. Relax.”

Derek scrambles to steal the wireless mouse from Stiles, who curls himself around it so Derek will at least have to hear the whole scene.

“Stiles, I’m going to fucking murder you!”

“Oh my God, Derek, stop! You can’t do that!” He pauses just to compose himself enough to say, “You’re a werewolf, not a swearwolf!”

Derek flashes his fangs, but keeps his fingers blunt enough to tickle Stiles in the side and steal the mouse. After that, it’s easy enough to hold Stiles at arm’s length while he pauses the movie.

After he’s had a moment to compose himself, Derek turns to Stiles, shaking his head like he’s actually pissed. “Do you know what you just did?”

“Um… Sorry, Derek; I didn’t realize you’d be so—”

“Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take Laura to shut up about this after movie night?”

Stiles slowly starts grinning. “Aren’t you glad you saw it before then?”

“She’s going to be _writhing,_ ” Derek tells him. “She’s going to call people swearwolves for a week.”

“Mmh. Turn the movie back on,” Stiles says as he snuggles back into Derek’s side. A strong arm wraps around him and he thinks, yes, this is it, this is his moment to cement this as a _thing_ and not just as one date.

He turns his head up to look at Derek, who has this really soft look on his face, like all the sharpness in him has been worn down, and he tilts his face up, trying to prompt a kiss. Derek’s eyes widen, and he smiles almost imperceptibly, and then he leans down and—

…And their faces bump into each other as Derek dives down to press his face into the base of Stiles’ neck and Stiles tries to meet Derek’s lips with his own.

They both pull back, Derek blinking, Stiles’ face blank. “I thought you were going to kiss me,” Stiles blurts out, almost surprising himself.

“You… wanted to kiss me?” Derek’s face is all confusion, which looks substantially more murderous on him than it does on most people.

“Do you just…? Are you oblivious on purpose?”

“Maybe I was expecting to take things a little slowly with someone six years younger than me with no dating experience.”

“Oh, and instead, you were just going to faceplant into my neck. _Soooo_ not as forward.”

Derek looks nervous, like he honestly thinks he fucked up, until Stiles starts breaks into laughter. He tilts his head to the side. “Nah, I get it. Go ahead.”

“You know it’s a werewolf thing,” Derek points out as he rubs his stubbly face on some of Stiles’ most delicate skin. “Laura’s even gotten Jackson to do it.”

“Mmmh.” Derek probably didn’t mean for his scent-marking thing to be so hot (he does it with his _sister_ ) but Stiles was really enjoying it. He leaned over to return the favor, and when he sat back and looked up, Derek was smiling like Stiles was magic. Then he put a hand on the back of Stiles’ head and leaned forward to actually kiss him, and wow. Just, wow. It only lasted a moment, not nearly as long or intense as Stiles was hoping for, but it still made him feel kind of like all his core muscles were suddenly made of jelly. He tucked himself against Derek’s side again as the werewolf took them back to the part of the movie before they’d failed to kiss/scent.

.-._.-._.-._

Laura and Isaac come back a little after four to find Derek and Stiles sitting on the couch, talking about football, and definitely _not_ making out like they had for at least half an hour after the movie was over. Stiles had no idea if there was some kind of scent evidence all over the couch, but if anyone was going to be cool with that, it would be Laura.

“Everything go well?” Laura asks as she comes inside.

“Yeah,” Stiles shoots back. “We even managed to watch a movie. It was hard to find one short enough to finish before you got back.”

“Well, you seem to have survived. And Derek fed you?”

“As much as I could eat.”

She sniffs the air. “All of it in popcorn and chips.”

“And apple juice,” Stiles adds.

Laura shakes her head, sighing. “Really, Derek. You spoil him. Our finest delicacies…”

“I did offer him lunch,” Derek grumbles.

“So, what _did_ you watch?” Laura asks. “I did give you time for an extended Lord of the Rings movie. What’d you decide on?”

“It wasn’t on Netflix and you’ll be watching it next movie night,” Derek tells her. “Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“You know I’ve seen most of Mystery Science Theatre before, right?”

“There are, surprisingly, things that aren’t on Netflix that aren’t Mystery Science Theatre,” her brother tells her.

“Not that much worth looking for, though. Unless it’s a TV show. Are we marathoning?”

“No. It was pretty short, actually. We’ve been talking about sports.”

“Talking. Yeah. Sure. Smells like it was a really invigorating ‘talk.’”

Stiles and Derek both shrug and Laura grins before she walks away. “Glad you had fun,” she tells them before disappearing up the stairs.

“I had fun,” Derek says, which sounds like some kind of formality that’s probably important.

“I did, too.”

“Your house next time?”

Stiles knows that Derek is reacting to his instant heart rate jump because he can feel it, himself. “Might be a little soon for that.”

“I thought you said he’d be fine with it?” Derek asks, brows coming together in confusion more than anger.

“Um, yeah, as long as he didn’t find out. He doesn’t know about a lot of the things I do.”

Derek crosses his arms across his chest and it feels like a much bigger barrier than it ever did before Stiles had rubbed his cheek against that chest. “So, you were planning on lying to your father to date someone outside your age range.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s absolutely like that and I should never have agreed to this.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want him to know about you—”

“It’s just that you don’t want him to know about me, yes. I picked up on that. I’m not doing anything with you if it isn’t all out on the table.”

“Look, I’ll handle it, okay? It just… might take a while.”

“Like a minimum of two years, maybe?”

“Look, I’m not just some kid! I’m grown up!”

Derek looks… weirdly surprised, and then he quietly says, “Yeah, I’m not doing this. It was a nice date. Maybe we’ll try again when you’re older.” And all but runs up the stairs. Stiles waits for a couple minutes because he knows Laura likes to meddle in pack affairs and, for once, he really isn’t sure how he could have screwed up that badly, but she doesn’t come downstairs, so he lets himself out and drives home.

.-._.-._.-._

He gets a text sometime in the middle of the night from Laura, saying, “If you want to talk about what happened Sunday, come over Tuesday or call any time.”

But he doesn’t really want to talk it through because he kind of knows: Derek doesn’t think he’s as grown up as he is, and won’t take his word on it. End of explanation. So he needs something to push back with, and the best thing he can think of is getting the parental approval Derek wants. And then possibly turning Derek down, anyway, but crushes are awful and he isn’t sure he’d actually be able to say no.

“Hey, dad?” he asks after lacrosse practice on Monday, as he’s getting his homework setup ready. “How would you feel about me dating someone a little older?”

“Like eighteen?”

Stiles shrugs.

“Nineteen? …Stiles?”

“Maybe even a little more than that.”

“I’d think nineteen would be stretching it.”

“But, Dad, I’m practically grown up. You already trust me with the Jeep.”

“Are you trying to tell me you aren’t mature enough to have a car? I could just have you beg rides from your teammates every day.”

“Look, it wouldn’t be with anyone _old._ And I’m practically eighteen, anyway!”

“That is a much longer two years than you seem to think it is. Who do you even know who’s over nineteen?”

“Well, it’s not relevant if I can’t go out with him, is it?”

“It could be.”

“Dad, you can’t just arrest anyone I get a crush on!”

“Of course not; that would be unreasonable. What I can do is have a little chat telling them exactly what happens to people in this town who try to take advantage of my son.”

Stiles buries his face in his hands. “You’re so embarrassing!”

“Stiles, I’m only going to say this once: this is for your safety. You’ve never been as mature as you are now, so I get it: it really feels like you’re all grown up and ready to make your own decisions. But that’s not actually how it is and someone who’s older than you will understand that.”

“If he’s given me a more emotionally-stunted version of exactly this speech, is it okay?”

“No! God, Stiles, what have you been doing, asking out random thirty-year-olds every day you don’t have lacrosse?”

“He’s not thirty, Dad! That’s gross!”

“Stiles, please. Just tell me who this person is and we can go from there.”

“Not if you’re just going to intimidate him out of going out with me. The point of this is to _get_ a date, not scare one off.”

“Does this mystery person still live with their parents?”

“Not… exactly? It’s kind of complicated.”

“Is it Derek Hale?”

“Dad!”

“Okay, so my son is trying to date a guy he literally accused of murder six months ago.”

“I was wrong about that. We’re cool now.”

“Well, he and I aren’t ‘cool’ unless I can know for sure he’ll turn you down!”

“Why won’t you let me make my own decisions? It’s my life.”

“Because, apparently, you’re trying to make one of the worst mistakes teenagers ever make. This never goes well, Stiles. It happens all the time, and it isn’t happening to you.”

Stiles just barely manages not to say that Laura said it was fine, mostly because he knows that would go Really Badly for her.

“I mean, did you even think about what that age difference would look like if it were you?” his dad continues.

“Yes.”

“Okay, so please tell me how much sense it would make for you to date a ten-year-old.”

“Technically, if we’re going by proportions, it would be more like a twelve-year-old.”

“Whatever. I don’t even want to think about why you had that ready. Tell me about this twelve-year-old you would date.”

This is his chance.

“Okay, so assuming that the last time I let myself feel feelings was when I was twelve, and practically the only person I’d talked to that entire time was you, and I’d just started making friends in the past few months for the first time in years, I’d say that would drop my development down to when I was, like, fourteen. Half the age difference we’re working with chronologically.”

_“Stiles.”_

“And I’d say twelve and fourteen isn’t stretching it too much, y’know? Like, getting around the whole middle school-high school thing would probably be a little complicated, but it wouldn’t be too bad if we really worked together on it.”

_“Stiles.”_

“What?” Stiles asks, smiling innocently.

“I see what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“Just focus on school, okay, kiddo? It’s normal enough to get a crush on someone older than you, but just deal with it like everyone else.”

“But he’s just so… Like, I get him, okay? Like, with Lydia, it was all because she was everything I couldn’t be. Super put-together, lots of friends, total control over her life, and I wanted that. I wanted it so bad. If I could even just stand next to it, I wanted that. But, with Derek, it’s like… the way he had no control over the fire and the way I have no control over… y’know, everything… It connects, Dad. If my whole life has to be about me questioning what’s me and what’s Adderall and what’s just the fucked-up way my brain works, I want to be with someone who gets how shitty that feels.”

“That sounds a lot more like you could use some more therapy than it does like you need to start dating a 22-year-old.”

“It could be therapeutic,” Stiles counters. His dad rolls his eyes and starts to walk away. “Look, no, I’m not trying to be a smart-ass. I just… I feel really grounded when I’m around him? And he’s a really nice guy. Like, Jackson said I was crazy and he and Laura dealt with it immediately kind of nice. It’s the first time since Mom was alive that no one said I was overreacting or tried to tell me he didn’t mean it. He let it be enough that it made me feel bad. I never get that at school. I’m not used to people just… trusting me. I mean, I already screwed that up with you by sneaking into crime scenes.”

His dad sits down across from him. “Is there any chance you’re going to tell me what’s up with Derek and Laura Hale?”

Stiles’ heart goes into overdrive in a way that he knows any of his werewolf friends would hear. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve been at the center of a lot of mysteries. The fire. The mysterious murders last Fall. The mysterious murders weeks later…”

“None of that was their faults at all.”

“No, but I get the feeling there’s a lot more to it. Why did everyone suddenly start going there once a week?”

“They used to live with their whole extended family; the house felt empty. They just really like having company over.”

“Thing is, though, it’s the same group of kids that have been Scooby-Doo-ing into the middle of all the mysterious murders.”

“We aren’t the Scooby Doo team.”

“You’ve got a redhead who’s smarter than she looks, the charismatic-but-unremarkable- blonde boy she’s dating, a dark-haired girl who seems to know everything, and then two ridiculous boys who just want food and videogames. You’re a bunch of meddling kids.”

“Who’s Isaac?”

“I didn’t say it was a perfect metaphor. But what’s going on? Nothing like this ever happened before the Hales came back.”

“It’s a coincidence.”

“That many literal deaths in a city this small? That’s not a coincidence. Now, I get that they aren’t the murderers. But it’s really clear that whoever is has something to do with them.”

“Look, I can’t tell you, okay? I’m the one who’s the least mixed up in this. …Somehow. If you really can’t stand not knowing, you’ll have to ask them.”

Five minutes later, Stiles texts Laura from his dad’s patrol car: “Incoming curious sheriff. He knows I want to date Derek, doesn’t know you’re werewolves, will definitely ask what’s up with you.”

He gets an almost immediate “Thanks!” and hopes that means Laura’s prepping Derek and Isaac for how to handle the situation.

They get to the Hale house and it’s really weird for Laura, Derek, or Isaac to pretend not to hear the car. He knows it’s because of his dad, but it feels creepy.

Laura opens the door with a smile several moments after his dad knocks, says, “Sheriff Stilinski! Good to see you.”

“Can I come in?”

“Of course. Stiles told us you were coming; I assume this is just to talk?”

“Hopefully.”

“Just leave your shoes by the door, okay? Otherwise, the dirt gets all over the carpet.”

His dad taking orders from a woman he’s practically interrogating seems like a good sign.

“Can I offer you anything to drink? Water? Tea?”

“I’m fine.”

“Stiles?”

“Also fine.”

They continue into the sitting room, where Derek and Isaac are already sitting, nervous and a little rigid. Laura sits between them and the sheriff. Stiles wants to sit with his pack, wants “pack” to be something he’s sure he’s still doing right, but he sits next to his dad on the other couch.

“Stiles told me you had a few questions,” Laura tells his dad.

“Well, my son’s been coming here every Friday night for weeks, but we’ve barely met. I figured we should get to know each other.”

“Absolutely.” Laura offers her hand and the sheriff shakes it. “We did talk a bit before Isaac started living here, but that was only a few minutes.”

“Do you mind if I just get straight down to it?”

“Not at all.”

“What is it about you and your brother that seems to attract trouble to Beacon Hills?”

Laura shrugs like she isn’t hiding her entire identity. “Bad luck? Coincidence?”

“You’ll have to lie better than that. You’ve surrounded yourself with a group of teenagers; I’m just concerned for their safety.”

“Sheriff, I can assure you that they’re safer here than they are anywhere else in Beacon Hills.”

“How?”

Laura takes a deep breath, preparing. “We’re werewolves,” she tells him.

The reaction is immediate. Stiles flinches. Isaac takes hold of her arm. Derek looks away.

“Werewolves.”

Laura nods, still perfectly in control of herself. “If there’s any single adult in this city who should know, it’s you. During the first set of murders last Fall – that was a foreign alpha trying to come onto our land and stake a claim – Scott got turned, so of course he and Stiles were in the know after that. I brought him into my pack immediately; I couldn’t just let him follow some power-hungry murderer. I turned Jackson when he asked because it was clear that what he really wanted was an authority figure he wouldn’t doubt when they told him he belonged. Pack can provide that. It’s a different kind of adoption from what his parents did. I turned Isaac for protection, but then his father was killed before CPS could intervene – after he needed the healing powers, though. There was a brief hiccup with Jackson involving Gerard Argent basically mind-controlling him, but he’s a proper werewolf now and a member of my pack.”

“Okay. Let’s go through this piece by piece. How am I supposed to believe you’re werewolves?”

“I would assume that a man like yourself, who’s paid to be skeptical, would take nothing less than concrete proof. Derek, would you shift for us?”

“It isn’t a party trick,” Derek growls.

Laura shrugs and stands up. She shifts halfway, into the form she was capable of as a beta. “Satisfied, Sheriff?” she asks mildly before shifting back.

It’s several moments before Stiles’ dad can speak again. “How—what—”

“I know, right? Someone declares themself a werewolf and you think they’re hallucinating. Not quite true in this case.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, clearly hoping for a run-down of who, exactly, he’s been letting his son hang out with.

“Well, first off, there are healing abilities. A few different ones.” She pulls a Swiss army knife from her pocket. “First, there’s just plain healing. Broken bones, burns, scrapes…” She slices into her own arm. Blood stops flowing almost immediately. “We can also take the pain of others, make it more bearable for them. We feel it ourselves instead. As an alpha with several betas, my own healing is considerably faster than theirs, but a little cut like that would still be small potatoes.”

“What’s an alpha? Like an alpha wolf?”

“Similar. A little more magical, if you believe in those things.”

“I do now,” Stiles’ dad mutters.

“I’m the highest authority in the pack in all decisions. When my betas – that’s all the other members of the pack – have a problem, they come to me. I follow in the footsteps of my mother, who was an excellent alpha. I also have the ability to command any of my werewolf betas when I need to. Any werewolf can command humans, but I almost never do, in the interest of not taking unfair advantage. I can also shift into a more wolf-like form, but that would rip my clothes and these jeans actually fit.”

“So, why do all the kids come here for Friday nights? I heard it’s a… movie night?”

“It is. It’s a pack meeting and dinner, followed by bonding time and a movie. In a proper pack, everyone would live together, like they used to here. Since we don’t, we still need some time to catch up and hang out. We have dinner, talk about any business that needs to be dealt with, then hang out and watch a movie. Exactly like a human movie night.”

“So, if I’m hearing this right, you have a group of teenagers who you can force to do your bidding, and you use that to have potlucks and watch movies.”

Laura looks uncomfortable for the first time since Stiles and his dad got here. “Technically, yes. But I do take my position very seriously. It’s a leadership position; I’m not some general. They’re just kids. I do need to lead them through dangerous situations sometimes – for example, when Allison’s extended family came here to try to kill all of us – but most of the time, it’s a lot more like being their mom.”

“When Allison’s family came to _what?”_

“The Argents are a line of werewolf hunters. Allison’s pack and she’s perfectly safe, but when her grandfather came here, he was out for blood. It was all very complicated.”

“Do tell.”

Laura sighs. “Kate Argent, Allison’s aunt, took advantage of Derek when he was a teenager so she could learn how the house was set up. She paid some arsonists to set a fire and my brother and I were the only two who escaped. When we came back to Beacon Hills to rebuild the house and start over, so did they. Kate died in a confrontation with the foreign alpha, who also ended up dying—”

“That’s a lot of passive voice for someone talking about murder,” the sheriff interjects.

Laura shrugs. “Ask anyone who was there. They killed each other. I can’t say I felt any sympathy for either of them. The woman who killed everyone I loved except my brother and a man who wanted to take everything from me all over again. Then Gerard Argent came for the funeral and his family took over the school. The school attended by my growing pack. Jackson had taken the Bite – the bite that turns you into a werewolf, not some STD or something – but he was turning into this snake-creature called a kanima, under the control of Mr. Argent. There was a large amount of murder and terrorism, which I’d say can be attributed to Argent and not to Jackson, since the kanima seeks approval so desperately that it’s basically mindless under an assertive master, and in the end, I was paralyzed, Gerard forced me to give him the Bite, and it killed him. That’s just a thing that happens sometimes, unpredictably; as a hunter, he would have known the risk. If anything, he forced me to kill him more than I actively killed him.”

“What about Isaac’s father?”

“Oh, he was killed by the kanima. I did lie to you a bit; Isaac could definitely take the door off a car. I did think teenagers were a shitty bet for finding your murderer, but it ended up being more complicated than that.”

“Why are you telling me this now and not when it was relevant?”

“Sheriff, I just told you that I am a literal werewolf. Telling humans about that hasn’t exactly been the safest decision in my brother’s or my life. It kind of got our entire family murdered. I hope you can understand my hesitance.”

“But why me and why now?”

“You because I want you to understand what’s going on in this city – you were right; you do have a right to know as our protector – and now because Stiles made it now. He’s a member of my pack and I trust his judgment. He’s very clever; if he really wanted you not to find out, he could deflect all day. Also, I think you should know because I have a suspicion that Stiles is more than he seems.”

“In what way?”

“Wait,” Stiles interrupts. “Hold up. Why haven’t I heard about this?”

Laura smiles at him. “Sweetie, do you think I tell you everything? I have my secrets. If you really are just human, it won’t change anything. This age is when latent abilities tend to develop, though.”

“…Like Lydia.”

“Yes, exactly like Lydia.”

“What happened to Lydia?” the sheriff asks.

“She’s a banshee,” Laura tells him. “Still learning to control it, though. I would help her learn about her powers, but I have no idea how banshees learn control.”

“…But you do know how werewolves learn it,” the sheriff guesses.

“Yes. Yes, I do. That’s one part of being a pre-teen that I’m happy to never revisit.”

“How do werewolves learn control, Laura?” It’s clear that Stiles’ dad is starting to get frustrated and Stiles wishes he could be almost anywhere else.

“On the night of the full moon, when they can’t help shifting, I’d take them down to the basement, where we have some reinforced rooms – they look like cages, but they’re warm enough and have mattresses and taps and all – and I’d talk to them and flash my alpha eyes at them until they calmed down.”

“And you say you work for Child Protective Services.”

“Sheriff, the last thing you want is an uncontrollable werewolf in Beacon Hills. Anyway, they don’t get hurt. If you’d like to talk to Isaac privately, he’ll tell you there’s nothing bad going on, and his case worker can confirm in. It’s just me sitting in the basement with a book, and the kids doing their homework and playing phone games, and then it’s them screaming at me as they turn into werewolves and me talking them down.” She shrugs. “I’d assume it’s worse when it’s your actual mom, who you grew up with. I’ve always gotten to come across as something of a werewolf expert.”

“Explain to me exactly how this process works and why I shouldn’t lock you up right now.”

“So, afternoon of the full moon, tension is high, everyone’s a little tetchy, in a proper pack the pups haven’t been sleeping right. No one feels the need to transform, though. Newly turned werewolves who know they’re going to shift go down to the basement with their alpha – me – and Derek stays upstairs to hang out by himself and make dinner. Everyone is put into a different space so they can’t get at each other because insults get ugly when your blood’s up like that and we don’t want anyone to get hurt. They have their school supplies and whatever else they brought with them, most notably smartphones and portable gaming systems. Reception’s shit in the basement, but they can still play games, get their minds off the transformation. Moonlight comes in the window, everyone goes totally fucking crazy. Screaming, begging, bargaining, the works. I had at least two cousins who cried during their first shifts. They just want to run around and sink their teeth into something, but of course, that can lead to accidental homicide and it’s hard to plead temporary insanity due to being a werewolf when no one believes werewolves exist. I talk to them one at a time to calm them down, flash my alpha eyes at them if they’re getting too hot-headed – and, at least the first time or two, they always are at some point – and keep going for as long as they need. Derek brings down some food and we try to get them to eat. Then we try again the next month, and the next, until they can hold themselves together on their own.”

“What on Earth are ‘alpha eyes’?” Stiles’ dad asks.

“Oh. Just a warning: they might be a little overwhelming. I won’t look at you with any kind of intent, though; I won’t make you do anything. Are you ready?”

“Sure.”

Laura is all civility one moment, and then her eyes flash red and the sheriff practically jumps backward into Stiles.

“Dad!”

“What WAS that?”

Laura stands to help him sit up straight again. “I’m the alpha of Hale pack. Like my mother before me. It comes with some abilities.”

“How do you just…? How long have you been like that?”

“Six years. I always knew I’d be Alpha one day, though. Mom was teaching me some things about how to resolve disputes and stuff. I just didn’t think I’d need them so soon.” She sits back down, smiling like nothing happened. “So, you see, this really is the safest place in Beacon Hills. Stiles is a brilliant researcher; he makes the pack safer and we ensure his protection.”

“You’ve seen a lot of combat for the safest group in Beacon Hills.”

“Sheriff, to stop innocent people dying, sometimes you have to charge into the situation head-first. I’m trying to tell you that these mysteries you’ve been working on are connected through supernatural elements that I’m pretty sure you hadn’t considered. I’m trying to give you the resources to keep Beacon Hills safe.”

“…Which you’ve withheld from me for years.”

“Beacon Hills was safe when our pack lived here. We aren’t all those horrifying legends; we eat kielbasa pyrohi and watch Mystery Science Theatre.”

“You remembered the name!” Stiles interrupts.

“Well, you made them yourself; of course I did. And it was the first night you came here and knew you were pack. I remember a lot about it.”

“What do you mean when you say people are in your pack?” the sheriff asks, and Stiles is about 90% sure that he’s starting to come around.

“It means they’re in my pack,” Laura tells him. “It’s really hard to translate. It’s mostly a family unit. It means we’re all in it together.”

“And when you say Stiles is in your pack…”

“Stiles was pack back when this whole thing with the other alpha started. Stiles was pack as soon as Scott was turned. Because Scott became pack, and he and Stiles were already inseparable. Allison and Lydia and Danny are also pack. None of them can run with us when we go out on the reserve, but they’re still important to us.”

“And what do you do ‘out on the reserve’?”

“Dad.”

“Stiles, I need to know.”

Laura shrugs. “Hunt, often. We brought down a deer once. We still have some of it in the freezer. Sometimes I set up race courses, or we play tag. I try to get them out every week or two for a little pack bonding.”

“Plus the dinners.”

“Plus dinner and movie night so we can have fun with our human pack members, yes. We can’t let anyone feel left out.”

“How gracious of you.”

“…Mr. Stilinski? Are you alright? Shit. Derek, get him a glass of water. Isaac, hand me that blanket.”

“Dad?”

“Stiles, it’s fine. I’m fine, Miss Hale.”

“Sheriff, it’s no trouble; I understand this might be a lot to take in.” She tugs a throw blanket around his shoulders. “You take it easy. I know Stiles worries about you.” Derek appears with a glass of water, which Stiles’ dad takes. “Sip that slowly. I’m so sorry; I should have gone slower.”

Stiles can hear hear his dad beginning to hyperventilate now. He puts his arms around his dad’s shoulders, just like his dad did for him after his mom died. “Dad, it’s alright. I’ve been hanging out with them for months; they’re cool.”

“Stiles, maybe not the thing to point out when your dad is freaking out _because_ you’ve been hanging out with us. Mr. Stilinski, no one will hurt your son while I have anything to say about it. I would sooner die than see any of my betas hurt.”

Stiles was not expecting the next words out of his father’s mouth to be, “You wanted to date a WEREWOLF?”

“Dad, holy shit, maybe don’t freak out about that when you’re having a panic attack!”

“Stiles, what are—you’re grounded.”

“What?”

“You’re grounded. I’ve been asking you for months what the deal is with the Hales, and you tell me after you ask if you can date one of them?”

“I didn’t know if it would be okay to tell you, okay? There are all these secrets ever since Scott turned into a werewolf, and they’re really important secrets, and I just want everyone to be safe!”

“And that’s admirable, but I wouldn’t have just let you hang out with werewolves!”

“They’re good werewolves! Friendly werewolves. Guardians of the land.”

“They’re werewolves, Stiles. At least give me time to sort that out for myself.”

“Well, some of us didn’t get time. Some of us had to figure out on our own that our best friend had turned into a werewolf, and figure out what to do on a full moon because we hadn’t met Laura yet. Some of us handcuffed our best friend to the radiator and offered to feed him live mice.”

Laura starts laughing. “Oh my God, Stiles! That story just never gets old! You really have to see how upset Scott looks when he tells it for the full effect, though.”

“ _Anyway,_ some of us got zero adjustment time and just had to trust that things were going to be okay. I’ve already done that, Dad. I’d rather know what I’m facing down than be caught off-guard.”

The sheriff sheds his blanket and stands up. Laura Hale stands up, shorter than him but no less dignified. “We’ll talk about this another day. Give me some time to think about it.”

She smiles. “I understand completely. I also understand if you need to tell the other kids’ parents. If you send them my way, I’ll do what I can to help them understand.”

Sheriff Stilinski nods, takes a deep breath, and leads Stiles out less than gently.

“What are you doing, Stiles?” he asks as they get outside.

“Dad, they can hear you. Super-hearing.”

Stiles’ dad rolls his eyes and goes to open his car. “Maybe I don’t care what they can hear. What are you doing messing around with werewolves, and why didn’t you tell me what they were?”

“Well, Scott was turned by that one asshole. And there wasn’t really any point while we were trying to figure out what was going on with him that either of us went, ‘I know! Let’s make Stiles’ dad’s life even more dangerous! That’ll help!’”

“Stiles, I’m going to say this one time: my highest priority is keeping you safe. When you don’t let me do that—”

“Dad, I have werewolves protecting me! Do you have any idea how scary it is knowing what’s out there and knowing that you’re on the front lines of any supernatural crisis?”

“I’m not done! Stiles, you’re sixteen. You’re not old enough to make decisions that could lead to your death. Do you have any idea how it feels when the most precious thing in the world to me has been in danger since school started and I had no idea? I thought you were just meddling at crime scenes! Look. It’s my job to be Sheriff. I’m an adult and I made that decision over a long period of time. I have four separate contingency plans in case I die just to sort out what happens to you. You went into this with no planning, you decided not to tell any adults outside the whole… werewolf situation, and it sounds like there’s even more you aren’t telling me. So, yeah. Grounded until further notice. And I’m absolutely telling Melissa.”

“What about—”

“And the Whittemores. And don’t think I wouldn’t tell Isaac’s dad if he was still alive.”

“Isaac’s dad was an abusive piece of shit.”

“Oh, the werewolves told you that, did they?”

“Uh, yeah. And the way Isaac flinches when Coach yells at him. And also the way he looks super nervous during movies when everyone else is lying on top of at least two other people. Like he still isn’t sure he’s in the pack. Also, that time he referred to the basement in his dad’s house as a torture dungeon. Isaac’s seen some shit.”

“Well, I don’t know who to believe. Apparently, I’ve been lied to for months by my own son. If knowledge is such a good defense, and you were so scared for me, why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

“…It doesn’t sound reasonable, does it? Werewolves existing. Random supernatural creatures popping up out of nowhere. I didn’t want to just throw you into that. Things have been really calm for the past few months; I was hoping I’d never need to tell you. And maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about you as much.”

“Stiles, I’m your father. I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of you.”

“But you don’t eat right on your own. And you’re in a super risky line of work that feels that much scarier when there are actual monsters around. And then you made me give back my police radio, so I have to pirate it off the internet… Like, I get where you’re coming from, but I spend all day worrying about you and maybe I didn’t want you to worry about me and get distracted if anything happened.”

His dad sighs. “Look. What if I came to the dinner this Friday?”

“Dad.”

“Now, if pack is family and friends, I definitely have every right to be there.”

“Would I get to go?”

“What, you think I’m going to leave you home by yourself? On a Friday night? That’s a recipe for trouble.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll give you Laura’s number when we get home.”

Stiles doesn’t comment when they turn to go to Scott’s house instead of their own. He just silently accepts that this is his life now and texts Scott, “Incoming: my dad knows about werewolves”

Scott’s waiting for them outside when they drive up, not exactly one for subtlety like Laura. “Please don’t tell my mom” are the first words out of his mouth when the sheriff gets out of the car.

“Scott, you can’t just—”

“She already worries about me when she thinks I’m home playing videogames all night. I don’t want her to know there are people who want to kill me for no reason.”

“Scott. Calm down, kiddo. She’s an adult. She can handle it. She’s probably seen weirder things in the ER.”

“But they weren’t happening to me!”

The sheriff walks past him to knock on the door. Scott rolls his eyes and lets him and Stiles in.

“John,” Melissa says as she comes in from the kitchen. “What have our boys gotten up to this time?”

“You’ll want to be sitting down for this,” Stiles’ dad tells her.

.-._.-._.-._

“A werewolf?”

“I know it sounds stupid.”

“And literally impossible.”

“That, too.”

“John, why did you actually come here?”

“It’s, um,” Scott begins. “It’s true, actually. Remember when school started and my asthma cleared up?”

“Uh, you mean six months ago?”

“Yeah, then. I kind of. I got bitten by a stray one, and now I’m…”

“A stray… werewolf?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry; he can’t do that to anyone else. He’s dead.”

“You think you’re a werewolf and you’re telling me not to worry? Is there some kind of mold or something in this town?”

“Mom.” Scott stands up. “I might not be able to do it right. You need to be angry in just the right way.” After a few moments, much longer than it took Laura, he shifts.

Melissa screams.

“Melissa, it’s fine,” John tells her.

“Mrs. McCall, it doesn’t hurt him,” Stiles says at the same time.

“Scott, what the hell are you trying to do here? You’ve been doing this… thing for six months and you didn’t tell me?!”

“It was kind of complicated,” he tells her as he shifts back.

“Complicated, my ass. Scott, you don’t just keep that from someone. Is this what’s really going on with the Hales?”

“…Yeah.”

“So, what do you really do with them? I don’t even know what werewolf behaviors to ask about. You haven’t killed anyone, have you?”

“Mom! Of course not!”

“Well, I would have said ‘of course my son isn’t a werewolf’ up until we had this little chat.”

“On Friday nights, we eat dinner together and watch a movie. All the other times, we run races or play tag.”

“You play tag.”

“Yes!”

“You expect me to believe you’ve been hiding something from me for six months because you’ve been playing tag?”

“And… hunting supernatural creatures that the sheriff’s department isn’t equipped to deal with. …Sorry, Mr. Stilinski.”

“You’ve been fighting? Scott, how many times in your life have I told you not to get into fights?”

“I didn’t really have a choice. Allison’s family are werewolf hunters, and when her grandpa came to town, he declared war on the pack.”

“War.”

“War, yes. I was there. He cut a guy in half with a sword.”

“Scott!”

Melissa’s hugging Scott tight almost faster than Stiles could see her move. “Scott, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

“You witnessed a murder, Scott. You’re allowed to be upset.” She pulls back, keeping an arm on Scott’s shoulder. “I do need to meet with the Hales, though.”

“Mom!”

“Do you know, that’s exactly the reaction I got from Stiles,” Stiles’ dad says from the peanut gallery.

Melissa rolls her eyes. “If they aren’t okay having parents over for one night, they’re not really your friends. Okay? Oh, and no car privileges. Not until I’m done being scared for you in retrospect. Wait, and what do you mean, Allison’s family are werewolf hunters? Are you dating a girl who wants to kill you?”

“No! Allison’s on our side. She’s in the pack.”

“You know what? We’ll talk about this later. We’ll get it all sorted out.” She turns to Stiles’ dad. “Thanks, John.”

“Any time.”

“Scott, you’re coming to work with me.”

“What?”

“You’re doing your homework in the waiting room, where someone can keep an eye on you. I’m not arguing this with you. You’re staying where we can see you.”

They finish sorting out how the rest of the night’s going to go and then Stiles and his dad go… not home.

Stiles doesn’t bother texting Jackson.

“Mrs. Whittemore.”

“Sheriff Stilinski. Is there anything I can help you with?” She shoots an utterly toxic glare at Stiles.

“I’d like to talk with you and Jackson, if I can.”

“Does your son have to be here?”

“We have dinner together every Friday,” Stiles tells her. “We’re on good terms again.”

Jackson’s mom looks uncomfortable, but calls her son downstairs. They all sit in the parlor, which looks and smells kind of the way Stiles expected: sterile and bland.

“It turns out our kids have been hiding some things from us,” Stiles’ dad tells Jackson’s mom, and Stiles would be so happy to never have this conversation ever again.

“What kind of things? Jackson, have you been doing drugs?”

“What? No!” He looks warily at Stiles, but Stiles isn’t actually a snitch.

“Jackson, how long have you been a werewolf?” Stiles’ dad asks.

“Dad, you don’t just ask _Jackson_ that question! It’s really sensitive for him.”

“Mr. Stilinski, is this your idea of a joke? It isn’t funny. What are you actually here for?”

“Well… I got the Bite in late September,” Jackson says. “It’s… kind of complicated, though. Who have you been talking to?”

“Jackson, is this some kind of gang?” his mom asks.

“Laura told me,” Stiles’ dad says. “I’ve already talked to Scott and his mom. You aren’t in any kind of trouble. I just think everyone’s parents should know.”

“This is bullshit,” Jackson spits back. “I don’t have to answer any of your questions.” He gets up to leave.

“Laura would want you to,” Stiles points out.

Jackson turns around, staring at Stiles like he’d just shot him through the heart with one of Allison’s wolfsbane arrows. He looks at Stiles’ dad for a moment before he asks softly, “Did Laura really tell you?”

The sheriff nods. Jackson sits down, nervous but obedient. His mom looks like she doesn’t know whether to be angry, disturbed, or calm. “Jackson, what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me? What does Laura Hale have to do with any of this?”

“Um… So, yeah. I’m a… werewolf. Just like he said. I can do the transformation thing, if you want proof.”

“Jackson, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not making fun of you! Here.” He shifts into his beta form and then back. “A werewolf like a real werewolf. Like a werewolf bit me and now I can turn into a legendary monster.” His whole demeanor screams, _You got a problem with that?_ but his mom still just looks shocked. He sits on the couch a couple feet away from his mom, making himself as small as possible. It’s a weird look for him.

“What does Laura Hale have to do with any of this?” Jackson’s mom asks when she’s recovered a little.

“She’s the alpha. The leader, I mean. She was born a werewolf and then she took over from her mom. She’s the one who makes decisions like when we can tell people these things.”

“You should have told me immediately!”

“Oh, yeah, totally. Hey, Mom, I think McCall turned into a werewolf. I’m going to go ask that lady whose family died in a fire to bite me, too! Hey, Mom, the whole ‘werewolf’ thing got messed up and now I’m a lizard-thing who does whatever my creepy supernatural master wants me to! That would’ve gone over well!” His face blanches and he whispers, “I said that out loud.”

“Jackson, what on Earth haven’t you been telling me?”

“Mom, I wasn’t—”

“Mrs. Whittemore,” Stiles interrupts, “I’ve just had this conversation three times with three different parents. If you could freak out less than my dad or Scott’s mom, that’d be great. If you have questions, take them to Laura; she’s really good at the whole explanation thing.”

“Ask the girl who’s been hiding this from us, you mean?”

“Look, the last time her brother told someone he was a werewolf, their whole extended family was murdered. So they aren’t just being cautious because they don’t want to be gossiped about.”

Mrs. Whittemore nods stiffly and looks at Stiles’ dad. “Thank you for telling me about this, Sheriff.”

“Of course. Oh, and Melissa McCall and I are going to their group dinner on Friday, so if you and your husband want to come, I’m sure that would be alright.”

“We’ll see.”

They get out of the Whittemore household without much more conversation, and Stiles finally gets to go home and do his homework. He texts Scott a few times and gets a friendly response from a hospital receptionist.

.-._.-._.-._

He calls Laura the next day, since he can’t leave the house, to ask about Sunday. Not that everything hadn’t fallen apart again.

“Stiles! I thought you were grounded.”

“This is the land line and Dad’s out.”

“Okay. Well, Derek and Isaac are out…”

“Good. What did I screw up?”

He hears Laura release a deep breath. “I think you reminded Derek of himself when he was sixteen.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And I trust him on that, honestly. The only reason I would ever let you make a pass at him is that I completely trusted him to notice if you were getting in over your head.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re only sixteen, Stiles. If you can barely even acknowledge that you aren’t old enough to legally consent, you aren’t old enough for him to trust you to tell him to back off. If Derek’s extra cautious around you because of your age, that’s perfectly normal and reasonable and you need to respect that.”

“I do! It just… really sucks.”

“Sometimes, love does suck, Stiles. On a completely different note, I do ask, if there are any more of our secrets you’re planning to give to your dad, that you ask me first. Then we can come up with a good plan and have time to prepare.”

“I’m so sorry about that; I didn’t realize he was going to do that. I thought I was calling his bluff.”

“Stiles, it’s fine. I should have helped you guys tell your parents a long time ago. It wasn’t fair to ask you to lie for me.”

“Did Dad call you about Friday yet?”

“He did. I’m sending out an e-mail by Thursday. I want everyone to act normal.”

“Normal-but-also-on-our-best-behavior?”

“No, normal. Act like yourself. Honestly, if Jackson scents me on Friday, it’ll be one of my biggest successes since he started doing it at all. They’re your parents, Stiles. I don’t want you guys to feel awkward when they have every right to feel included in the pack.”

“…But you aren’t calling them pack yet.”

“Being pack can take time. It isn’t like when you grow up with people who are pack. There are a lot of different families, and adults tend to be more brittle about what they can change about their lives. Middle-aged parents aren’t going to look at me and think, yeah, totally following that college-age woman in matters of life and death. But I do want them to know that their children are safe.”

“Because we’re your kids, too, right?”

“Exactly. So, Stiles? Don’t take the thing with Derek too hard. It’s an age thing, not a you thing, and we’re still so happy to be your packmates.”

Stiles nods even though Laura can’t see it. It only feels like a gaping hole in his chest. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“And I’ll see you and your dad on Friday. Bring something, okay? I’ll do what I can to have some low-fat, low-sodium options, but we do have a ton of teenage athletes coming.”

“Can do.”

.-._.-._.-._

It’s the first time in months that he hasn’t driven Scott to pack dinner. He makes some Mexican soup he looked up online that he could make in a crockpot and replaced the pork with chicken. His dad wears a button-up that wasn’t supplied by the sheriff’s department. The door’s unlocked, as always, and his dad looks a little unsettled that they can just let themselves in. “They’d hear if we were people they haven’t met before, okay?” Stiles tells him. “Something about the combination of heartbeats and walking patterns is apparently very distinctive.”

“Stiles is just about to—” he hears Laura say as he and his dad enter the kitchen. “Hi, Stiles! These are Mr. and Mrs. Martin. Does that need to be plugged in?” she asks, pointing at the crockpot.

“Probably. Just to stay warm.”

“Let me see if I can clear a space.” She moves the cutlery farther from the available outlet so Stiles can get the soup warming again, then finds a ladle to leave next to it.

“Um, hey, can I not get dibs today?” Stiles asks, too quiet for any parents to hear.

Laura grabs him to scent him, and he reciprocates. “Of course, Stiles. If you want to leave at any point, that’s also fine. Parents do get judgey sometimes.”

“What the hell was that?” Stiles’ dad asks, completely breaking through their quiet, private conversation.

“It’s called scenting,” Laura tells him, smiling. “It’s like a hug. With our werewolf pack members, especially, it helps remind them that we’re all together in this.”

“It looked like a hell of a lot more than a hug.”

“Dad, calm down; it’s not like you’re thinking.”

“It’s a way to check in, sort of. We know people best by the way they smell, or at least Derek and I do since we were born werewolves, so scenting says to me what microexpressions and body language might say to a human psychologist.”

“What does he smell like, then?” Stiles’ dad asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“In addition to himself? Grass and body wash from lacrosse practice, a little bit of nerves, pozole, and lemon oil. Why lemon oil?”

“It said to put in lime juice, but I only had lemons and I also wanted the flavor. It got all over my hands.”

“There we go. Werewolf party tricks. Speaking of werewolves, Derek, you don’t get to opt out of this just because you hate meeting people.”

Stiles’ dad looks over his shoulder, but Stiles tells him, “Super hearing. He’s probably upstairs.”

“Derek. They’re practically pack. Get down here.”

Laura smiles at Stiles’ dad again a moment later. “Sorry. He’s not great with big events.”

Scott shows up with his mom and Allison sometime after Lydia started chatting with Stiles’ dad about forensic chemistry. Melissa seems a little weirded out, but mostly fine when Laura scents Scott. She puts a plate heaped with Stiles-approved oatmeal cookies on the counter as Allison introduces herself to Lydia’s parents.

Minutes later, just after Derek has finally made his way downstairs, Jackson comes in. He scents Laura like it’s a chore, like he wants it over with as soon as possible, but suddenly Laura’s on his case. “Whoah. Hey. Jackson. You alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“Lunch,” he tells her, like it’s obvious.

“When’s the last time you ate a full meal?”

“…Last night?”

“Stiles made some soup. It’s good. You don’t need to be so nervous.”

“There was a lot of yelling the last time I came here.”

“What are you doing with him?” Jackson’s mom asks, indignant, hopefully aware that the human teenagers are all watching and listening. Lydia even whispers to Stiles’ dad that this would be a good time to grab some popcorn.

“It’s called scenting,” Laura tells her cheerfully, just like she did with Stiles’ dad. “It’s like a hug, but it also lets me check in and make sure everything’s alright.”

“Why are you necking with my son?”

“I really can’t answer that because I’m not. It’s a completely normal greeting for werewolves.”

“You’re aware I’m an attorney, right?” Jackson’s dad asks. “And that I wouldn’t hesitate to put you behind bars if you did _anything_ to our boy?”

“Mr. Whittemore, if I were sexually harassing minors, do you think I’d do it in the middle of a room full of their parents? Really? If you want me to act human, I can’t do that; I’ve always been a werewolf. But I would never, not in a million years, sexually harass a teenager.”

Laura looks as serious as she does on the battlefield, scary-focused, and Jackson’s parents back down after that. After a deep breath, Laura smiles and turns to the rest of the room. “With everyone here, why don’t we start on dinner?”

They all sit at the table and on the couches, chatting, getting a chance to see how comfortable the teenagers are. Laura’s all over the place, keeping everything running smoothly, and Stiles thinks this is the closest to frantic he’s ever seen her. She’s clearly nervous, but it probably just looks like being a good hostess to the adults. Derek is guarded, the way he used to be, but he’s normally uncomfortable in crowds. Over all, things go pretty well. Dinner is good and Laura insists that Stiles has to pick the movie. “He wouldn’t tell me what it was,” she tells everyone. “I just know it’s funny. Stiles?”

“Shouldn’t we watch something… normal? Like The Princess Bride?”

“Stiles, I swear, if you lied to me about it not being MST3K we’re watching The Notebook again.”

“It’s not, okay? I just feel like the humor is more… werewolf-specific.”

Laura grins. “Stiles, did you find us a cheesy monster movie?”

“…Maybe.”

“Stiles, please show us all whatever horrible monster movie you found.”

He looks up What We Do in the Shadows again and they start watching. Well, everyone else watches. Stiles starts eating.

“Stiles, these are vampires; what were you even talking about?”

“You’ll see.”

The parents are settled on the couches, the werewolves and teenagers on the floor. Some of the parents look a little uncomfortable, but it’s reasonably clear that it’s more “slumber party” than “orgy.” Stiles plays with fidgets and blankets, but doesn’t let himself get as distracted as usual. Not in front of parents.

“Stop! Pause it! Oh my god, pause it!” Laura yells when they hit the werewolves. Stiles runs over to the computer to pause the movie. “Did they really just say what I think they said?”

“If it was ‘we smell each other’s crotches and it’s a form of greeting,’ then yes,” Stiles tells her.

Laura rolls on her side and cackles.   Not that the other werewolves don’t think it’s funny; they just didn’t grow up with werewolves.

“Okay, start it again. But stay there! And we’re re-watching this scene when it’s over.”

Stiles gets the movie going again, then he’s wondering what it would be like to lie on his side on the carpet, like Laura did. Not terribly comfortable, it turns out.

He pauses it again at the end of the scene, as Laura’s praising the (lack of) special effects.

“Holy shit, Laura, they’re just werewolves,” Jackson tells her.

“Language,” one of the Whittemores scolds.

“Yeah, Jackson, language! You’re a werewolf, not a swearwolf! Oh, God, how is that so much fun to say?” Derek was absolutely correct: Laura is writhing on the floor, cackling. “Sorry. Sorry. That’s just the best campy werewolf scene I’ve ever seen in my life. I love it. Stiles, take us back to the start of the scene?”

“What?”

“To ‘don’t catch fleas.’” She snorts as she remembers that that was an actual insult the vampires used.

Stiles gets them back to the start of the scene, then joins his pack on the floor again. Laura puts an arm around him for a moment. “Thanks for telling us about this.”

He would believe someone if they told him he started literally glowing.

Stiles wriggles around in his spot between Laura and Isaac, picking at blankets, whispering during the movie, messing with a sparkle-filled ball that was still within arm’s reach. The choppy style of the movie helps.

“Do you have to?” one of the parents asks quietly from behind him. Both the Martins and the Whittemores are sitting on that couch.

Stiles just ducks his head, but Laura says a quiet, “Yes” and stares daggers at the screen for a moment.

“It’s distracting,” the voice says a few minutes later, and Stiles is pretty sure it’s a woman, but he’s not even certain of that.

“You’ll live,” Laura responds as all the werewolves squirm and tense. Even Jackson.

Nobody says anything after that. Possibly because the movie was so short. Stiles gets out with his dad as quickly as possible so he can’t get any questions. The parent night was something remotely like a success and that’s enough.

Laura meets them as they leave, jogging around from behind the house. “Hey. Stiles.”

He smiles and nods to her.

“Don’t let selfish people get to you. Oh, and Sheriff Stilinski? Did you see when Mr. Martin was getting on Stiles’ case and everyone in the pack had to reign themselves in so they wouldn’t yell at him? That’s pack. That’s why Stiles is safe with us.”

“I noticed you getting into fights with a lot of parents.”

“Sir, I’m twenty-two and nervous and I’ve never done this before. I’m really not surprised it showed. I can run a pack just fine, but proving I can run a pack? That’s harder. I’m sure you understand that, yourself, sir; you’ve had to go between doing your job and showing the public that you can do it. And I haven’t done that second part before tonight.”

“Okay. So, what’s something you do as an everyday leader of a pack that you’re proud of, but you know it wouldn’t show?”

“I got our turned pack mates to stop doing the human no-touching thing. I even got Jackson to scent me in front of people; there aren’t words for how happy that makes me. I also ensured that Stiles and Derek will never go steady.”

“You what?!” Stiles felt the breath knocked out of him, kind of like that time Scott kissed Lydia. He almost dropped the crockpot.

“Easy, Stiles. It’s alright; calm down. Sweetie, sometimes an alpha has to be a little hard on her packmates to ensure they grow as people. Example A: not letting my werewolf betas run wild on full moons. Exhibit B: I had no fewer than five contingency plans to ensure that you understood that liking Derek is normal and fine, but not something to act on. You crush hard, dude.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Wait a minute. Wait,” the sheriff interrupts. “How did this go down?”

“Stiles asked if he could go out with Derek. I gave him my blessing and let things crash and burn between them.”

“You WHAT?” His dad’s hand is at his hip, reaching for the gun he doesn’t have on him, which is the biggest overreaction ever.

“I’m a big fan of giving people room to come to the most reasonable conclusion, which is, of course, that a relationship between a sixteen-year-old and a twenty-two-year-old is going to have ridiculously huge power imbalances.” She shrugs. “Commanding people not to do something generally leads to them trying to sneak around you, so I just let things run their course between Stiles and the man I’ve been talking with for six years about the ability of sixteen-year-olds, specifically, to give consent in relationships with older partners. They watched a movie and had some popcorn and that was it. I would know,” she reminds the sheriff, tapping her nose to remind him of her scenting abilities. Even when she’s breaking his heart, she’s protecting him from a dad-lecture about not making out with adults on couches. “Long story short, we got a great movie rec and order has mostly been restored. I find it’s easier to get over a crush that can’t work out, anyway; there’s a part of your brain that realizes it can’t work and turns it off.”

He knows it’s true, but it also kind of feels like a firework went off in his stomach, short-lived but painful.

“So, yeah,” she continues. “Not what you’d advertise to parents, but you happen to be the one actually relevant parent and I actually am pretty proud of that. Stiles, I’m the one who _taught_ you to make contingency plans for your contingency plans; you can stop looking so shocked.”

Stiles has never been more aware that werewolves have super hearing, that Derek would be able to hear anything he asked Laura. He just nods and turns to go.

“Hey. Stiles. Sweetie. Don’t take it personally, okay? You’re great and I know you could make someone closer to your own age very happy. Look, I can explain it to you more sometime, if you want, but I really need to get back inside.”

“I’m going to pull the wool over your eyes one day,” Stiles tells her because it’s all he can think when she just… He knows “betrayal” is probably not the best word, but he feels it.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she tells him, smiling fondly, then nods to him and his dad and goes inside.

“Give me a play-by-play of all of this,” his dad says when they’ve started on the road back.

“Can’t you just let me be miserable for one night?”

“Stiles, if you ever want to go back to that house, I need to know exactly what she did.”

“I’ll tell you later, okay?”

His dad’s hand grips his shoulder, secure and steady. “Stiles, I really am on your side in this. I always am. You’re growing up fast, kiddo.”

“Not fast enough to make my own decisions, apparently.”

“You’re free to decide anything that you won’t regret in a year or two.”

Time to switch tactics. “I can’t believe Laura _lied_ to me!”

“Well, I can’t believe she said yes, so there’s that.”

“Oh. Dad, no. If she says she had multiple contingency plans in case things went too well, she actually means it. I’m pretty sure I know a few of them, now that I know she was a dirty, scheming—”

“Are you allowed to talk like that about your alpha?”

“She’s an alpha, not God. I’m allowed to be pissed at her.”

“You could always go over to that pack Scott’s starting.”

“Pfff. You believe he’s an alpha as much as Laura does.”

“That’s true. Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

“Because Scott says he’s an alpha! And I’d totally be in his pack, even if he did start beating me at MarioKart ever since he got his werewolf reflexes.”

“How many more members until he branches off?”

“…I don’t know? I mean, he says he’s really an alpha, but he does really like spending time with the pack now. It’s complicated.”

“I imagine so.”

“…Does Scott wanting to form his own pack sound like me wanting to go out with Derek?”

“Not at all,” his dad says, and he relaxes until his dad continues with, “It sounds much less potentially disastrous.”

“So, when _do_ I get to make that kind of decision?”

“When you start wanting to go out with people you aren’t idealizing.”

“Dad, that’s going to take _decades!”_

“I can wait.”

He didn’t miss his dad’s amused smile, though, so he turns on the radio (to music, not to the police frequency) and sits back, fiddling with fidgets and chatting about littler things.

.-._.-._.-._

There’s an envelope in their mailbox the next day, hand-delivered, marked “Stiles & Sheriff Stilinski – The Contingency Plans” and his curiosity overwhelms his bitterness as he asks his dad if they can read it together.

 

1: (Failsafe) Derek grew up in a pack and is loyal to me personally, as my brother and as my beta. If I said stop, he would stop.

2: Derek only feels comfortable doing things by the book. If Sheriff Stilinski weren’t okay with him dating Stiles, he would stop.

3: Stiles can talk circles around Derek any day of the week. He could get himself out of any situation where he felt pressured.

4: Scott and I are the first people Stiles goes to to talk about his problems. I would be able to keep an eye on any situation where consent was questionable.

5: Derek and I have been discussing the ability of 16-year-olds to give consent almost since the fire. Taking advantage of a teenager would be personally traumatizing for him.

XOXO

Laura <3

 

“Any idea why she signed it with a heart?” the sheriff asks, amused.

“Uhhh, because it’s Laura? That’s kind of her thing. We figure it’s because the only two alphas she knows are her mom and this other woman who was basically her aunt. Lots of maternal stuff going on. There are also hearts in the group texts.”

His dad snorts. “Can I see?”

“Sure! Here.” He grabs his phone from the shelf where it’s supposed to stay for the duration of his grounding and finds the mass text. “This was to everyone who brought their parents to dinner last night, plus Derek and Isaac.” He scrolls up to the message Laura sent:

“Hi, betas!

“This Friday, your parents are all invited to come to dinner with you! Please act just like you would at any other pack dinner since I want to show them what pack life is like and not what you think they’d prefer to see. Those of you who aren’t grounded (looking at you, Allison and Isaac!), please make sure this gets around. See you Friday, cuties! <3”

“See?” Stiles asks. “This went to Derek, Jackson, Lydia, and everyone else.”

Stiles’ dad rolls his eyes and says something about kids. Stiles puts his phone back and returns to his homework, waiting for when he’s un-grounded so he can have study parties again. He actually got things done when he was working with the pack.

If he’s also looking forward to re-forging his co-beta relationship with Derek, he isn’t about to say that out loud.


End file.
